DESIG 


IN 

THEORY 

AND 

PRACTICE 


ERNESTABATCHELDER 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY    ( 


•* 


i 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

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http://www.archive.org/details/designintheoryprOObatcrich 


DESIGN  IN  THEORY  AND  PRACTICE 


•Tt^)<j?^ 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NKW  YORK  •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
ATLANTA  •    SAN  FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limitbd 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


DESIGN    IN    THEORY 
AND    PRACTICE 


BY 
ERNEST   A.    BATCHELDER 

AUTHOR    OF    "PRINCIPLES   OF    DESIGN** 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1910 

All  rights  reserved 


DECORATIVE  ART 

Copyright,   1910, 
By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  July,  1910. 


Norwood  Press 

y.  S.  Cusbing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co, 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S. A. 


fitrt 


PREFACE 


It  is  the  aim  of  this  book  to  be  helpful,  —  not  only 
to  teachers  and  students  who  may  be  directly  inter- 
ested in  the  subject,  but  to  the  many  others  who  feel 
the  lack  of  a  criterion  or  standard  to  assist  them  in 
forming  a  judgment  in  questions  of  design.  Though 
the  book  is  written  primarily  for  workers,  I  have 
endeavored  to  tell  the  story  in  such  way  that  it  may 
be  of  interest  to  the  general  reader.  A  judgment  is 
of  Httle  value  unless  it  can  be  backed  with  a  logical 
reason.  If  we  would  judge  wisely  and  discriminate 
well,  it  must  be  from  a  more  stable  basis  than  personal 
whim  or  fancy.  To  fully  appreciate  a  piece  of  con- 
structive work,  it  is  necessary  to  put  one's  self  as 
nearly  as  is  possible  in  the  place  of  the  worker,  study 
the  environment  in  which  he  worked,  the  conditions 
that  confronted  him  in  a  solution  of  his  problem,  the 
technical  limitations  and  possibilities  through  which 
his  idea  took  definite  form  and  from  which  his  design 
derives  character  and  style.  Hence  we  may  consider 
as  pertinent  any  serious  discussion  which  aims  to 
define  the  principles  of  design  and  their  practical 
application,  touching  upon  a  more  sane,  more  artistic 

V 

M856393 


vi  PREFACE 

production,  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  more  intelligent, 
more  discriminating  judgment  on  the  other. 

The  purpose  of  the  book  is  best  accomplished  by 
the  presentation  of  a  series  of  problems.  We  learn 
by  doing.  In  setting  mind  and  hand  to  the  solu- 
tion of  a  definite  problem,  we  meet  and  overcome 
questions  which  no  amount  of  reading  can  foresee. 
We  may  attend  lectures  and  indulge  in  critical  dis- 
cussions of  design  in  terms  of  language ;  we  may 
become  well  versed  in  the  history  of  art,  and  in  bio- 
graphical data  pertaining  to  the  lives  of  artists ;  yet 
find  ourselves  far  removed  from  any  true  appreciation 
of  the  work  of  the  past,  or  quite  at  a  loss  when  con- 
fronted by  a  simple  problem  in  constructive  design 
demanding  artistic  invention. 

Our  problems  lead  from  the  simple,  constructive 
use  of  lines  and  forms  under  clearly  defined  limitations 
to  work  involving  considerable  invention,  fine  feeling, 
and  freedom  of  execution.  They  begin  with  the 
geometric  and  work  toward  Nature ;  with  the  abstract, 
coming  gradually  into  closer  relation  with  the  con- 
structive questions  discussed  in  the  different  chapters 
of  the  book. 

The  work  is  in  no  sense  an  effort  to  formulate  a 
system  or  method  for  teaching  design.  Rather,  it  is 
a  presentation  of  a  few  among  many  problems  that 
have  gradually  developed  during  several  years  of  teach- 


PREFACE  vii 

ing  and  practice.  Many  have  found  this  work  helpful, 
and  its  appearance  in  a  series  of  magazine  articles  (^he 
Craftsman)  has  aroused  sufficient  interest  to  justify  its 
publication  in  book  form.  Through  the  courtesy  of 
the  editor  of  The  Craftsman,  material  has  been  also 
selected  from  articles  contributed  to  that  magazine 
subsequent  to  the  original  series. 

The  teacher  of  design  in  America  must  meet  condi- 
tions quite  different  from  those  found  in  the  Old 
World.  Each  country  abroad  has  distinctive  national 
traditions.  We  have  no  traditions ;  in  which  fact  is 
our  best  hope.  Our  salvation  is  to  be  sought  not 
in  borrowing  from  Europe,  but  in  boldly  striking  for 
an  elementary  basis  on  which  to  build,  in  digging 
for  bed  rock  on  which  to  raise  our  superstructure. 
The  student  abroad  is  at  all  times  within  easy  reach 
of  museums  and  galleries,  of  churches  and  monuments, 
through  which  the  development  of  the  art  of  his  own 
and  other  countries  may  be  traced,  and  which  offer 
facilities  for  comparative  study  not  open  to  most 
students  in  America.  Books,  photographs,  even  casts, 
are  insufficient  to  stimulate  the  imagination  or  develop 
the  thought  and  fine  feeling  essential  to  fine  work ; 
much  less  do  they  furnish  a  clew  to  work  expressing 
something  of  American  life  and  character. 

Throughout  the  book  the  simplest  type  of  technique 
with  brush  and  pencil  has  been  adhered  to.     It  is  not 


viii  PREFACE 

even  brush-made  design  that  is  sought ;  for  there  may 
be  a  distinctive  style  imparted  to  a  design  through  the 
manipulation  peculiar  to  the  brush.  The  sole  purpose 
here  is  to  make  the  worker  think  in  terms  of  design^ 
whatever  medium  or  technique  he  may  choose  to 
employ.  Skill  in  rendering  with  various  mediums, 
charcoal,  pencil,  water  and  oil  colors,  contributes  much 
to  the  problems  given.  But  a  book  is  no  place  for 
the  teaching  of  technique. 

Color^has  not  been  touched  upon  because  it  must, 
perforce,  deal  largely  with  diagrams  and  theories.  To 
talk  about  color,  or  write  about  it,  is  very  unsatis- 
factory, to  writer  and  reader  alike.  Color  can  be 
discussed  only  through  definite  examples ;  and  repro- 
ductive processes  are  so  inadequate  to  convey  the 
precise  meaning  intended  that  it  has  seemed  best  to 
leave  color  entirely  out  of  consideration. 

The  following  list  of  materials  will  be  found  ser- 
viceable :  Drawing  board  ;  thumb  tacks  ;  some  squared, 
engine-ruled  paper;  some  transparent  Japanese  water- 
color  paper;  a  bottle  of  waterproof,  black  India 
ink;  an  H.B.  pencil;  two  brushes  —  No.  2  for  lines, 
No.  7  for  washes ;  a  tube  of  charcoal  gray  paint ;  an 
eraser. 

One  unused  to  these  tools  and  materials  will  find 
some  practice  necessary  here  quite  as  much  as  if  one 
were  to  attempt  designing  in  terms  of  wood  or  metal. 


PREFACE  ix 

Some  command  of  technique  is  essential  to  an  accept- 
able expression  of  any  idea. 

My  thanks  are  due  to  pupils  who  have  generously 
furnished  so  much  of  the  illustrative  material  used  in 
the  book,  —  to  them  and  many  others  who  have  con- 
tributed more  through  their  own  thought  and  effort 
than  the  writer  can  hope  to  acknowledge. 

ERNEST   A.    BATCHELDER. 

Pasadena,  California. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGES 

I.    Introduction 1-15 

II.    The  Utilitarian  Basis 16-34 

III.  Elementary  Esthetic  Principles      .        .        .  35-54 

IV.  Constructive  Designing 55-73 

V.    Materials 74-99 

VI.  Tools  and  Processes    .        .        .        .        .        .  100-120 

VII.  Refinement  of  Proportions        ....  1 21-140 

VIII.    The  Play  Impulse 141-169 

IX.     The  Idea  and  Nature 170-199 

X.  From  the  Parts  to  the  Whole         .        .        .  200-217 

XL  From  the  Whole  to  the  Parts          .        .        .  218-230 

XII.     Lines  of  Study 231-258 

XIII.    Conclusion 259-268 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

FIG.  PAGE 

1.  Basket  of  American  Indians.     (From  Annual  Report  United 

States  National  Museum,  1902.) 11 

2.  Line  Motif  within  Rectangles 12 

3.  Rendering  of  Value  Scale  in  Lines         .....  14 

4.  Development  of  Line  Motif  within  Rectangle         ...  15 

5.  Implement  used  by  Indians  of  the  Northwest  Coast  of  America. 

(British  Museum.)     . '19 

6.  Wooden  Ladles  from  Java.     (British  Museum.)    .         .         .21 

7.  The  Problem  of  Lighting  under  Varying  Conditions      .         .  23 

8.  Modern  Designs  for  Lighting  Fixtures  .....  27 

9.  Spoons  of  Primitive  Workmanship.     (British  Museum.)        .  28 

10.  Ceremonial   Spoons  found   in  Tombs  of  Egypt.      (British 

Museum.)           .........  29 

1 1 .  Spoons  of  Various  Periods 30 

12.  Line  Motif  developed  through  Borders 31 

13.  Units  of  Repetition  in  Line  Motif          .         .         .         .         .  32 

14.  Turning  of  Corners,  Line  Motif 33 

15.  Measure  Rhythm 36 

16.  Measure  Rhythm 37 

17.  Balance  of  Shapes  and  Measures 43 

18.  Balance  of  Measures      . •  44 

19.  Harmony  of  Shapes 48 

20.  Area  Designs  developed  through  Borders      .         .         .         •  51 

21.  Area  Designs  from  Pottery  and  Blankets  of  American  Indians  53 

22.  Mediaeval  Chair.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)        .         .  56 

23.  Simple  Joinery.     (South  Kensington  Museum.)    ...  57 

24.  Implements  and  Utensils  in  Wood  and  Metal.     (British  Mu- 

seum.)         59 

25.  Pottery  Forms,  of  Various  Periods 62 

26.  Painted  Pottery  Form  from  Persia.     (South  Kensington  Mu- 

seum.)      ..........  63 

27.  Constructive  Design  in  Leather 64 

xiii 


xiv  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

FIG.  PAGE 

28.  Constructive  Design  in  Leather 65 

29.  Flying  Buttress  System  —  Tours^  Cathedral    ....  69 

30.  Mediaeval  Door  in  Carved  Wood.     (South  Kensington  Mu- 

seum.)         70 

31.  Detail  of  Carved  Door 71 

32.  Lock  in  Pierced  Metal 72 

33.  Keys  in  Pierced  Metal 72 

34.  Reliquary  in  Silver  Gilt.     (South  Kensington  Museum.)        .  73- 

35.  Shell  Necklaces  from  South  Sea  Islands.     (British  Museum.)  75 

36.  Hairpins  from  South  Sea  Islands.     (British  Museum.)           .  77 

37.  Primitive  Combs  from  Various  Sources.     (British  Museum.)  79 

38.  Development  of  Basketry  and  Pottery  —  American  Indians    .  83 

39.  Development  of  Aligator  Motif  from  Pottery  of  Chiriqui  In- 

dians            87 

40.  Jewelry  showing  Interesting  Use  of  Materials         ...  90 

41.  Leaded  Glass  showing  Constructive  Use  of  Materials     .         .  91 

42.  Leaded  Glass  showing  Inorganic  Relation  of  Design  and 

Lead  Lines         .........  92 

43.  Borders  showing  Use  of  Insect  Motif 95 

44.  Development  of  Insect  Motif 96 

45.  Eskimo  Bone  Knife loi 

46.  Plate  in  Pierced  Brass,  of  Modern  Workmanship,  from  India. 

(Victoria  and  Albert  Museum.) 103 

47.  Wrought   Iron    Hinge   from   St.   Albans   Abbey,   England. 

(South  Kensington  Museum.) 108 

48.  Wrought  Iron  Work  showing  Use  of  Tools  in  Design  .         .  109 

49.  Wrought  Iron  Hinge  End no 

50.  Pierced  Metal  Designs 11 1 

51.  Hinge  End  of  German  Workmanship 112 

52.  Wrought  Iron  Lock  and  Hasp,  of  German  Workmanship, 

Fifteenth  Century.     (South  Kensington  Museum.)     .         -113 

53.  Wrought  Iron  Door  Pull,  of  German  Workmanship,  Fifteenth 

Century.     (South  Kensington  Museum.)  .         .         .         .114 

54.  Development  of  Plant  Form  in  Wrought  Iron        .        .         .  1 14 

55.  Hinge  Ends  in  Wrought  Iron 115 

56.  Wrought  Iron  Door  Plate 116 

57.  Candle  Bracket  —  Wrought  Iron 117 

58.  Insect  Motif  in  Surface  Pattern iiB 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS  xv 


59.   Rhythmic  Connections  counting  for  Unity 


119 


60.  Demonstrations  of  Measure  Harmony 123 

61.  Examples  of  Space  Breaking  from  Historic  Work  .         .126 

62.  Harmony  of  Measures  and  Shapes  in  a  Greek  Vase        .         .127 

63.  Gothic  Crddence  —  from  Violet  le  Due 128 

64.  Space  Breaking  in  Cabinet  Work 129 

65.  Chests 131 

66.  Constructive  Elements  in  the  Designing  of  a  Jewelry  Casket      132 

67.  Constructive  Elements  in  the  Designing  of  a  Jewelry  Casket       132 

68.  Space  Breaking  on  Basis  of  Constructive  Elements         .         .     133 

69.  Metal  Hasps 133 

70.  Mediaeval  Metal  Work 136 

71.  Abstract  Nature  Symbol  in  Borders       .         ....     139 

72.  Carved  Wooden  Drinking  Cup  —  from  Peru.     (Berlin  Mu- 

seum.)        143 

73.  Mediaeval  Wrought  Iron  Door  Knocker.     (South  Kensington 

Museum.)  .........     144 

74.  Detail   from  a   Byzantine    Hunting   Horn  —  Carved   Ivory. 

(South  Kensington  Museum.)   ......     144 

75.  Carved  Stone  Ornament  —  Mediaeval  French  .         .         .     145 

76.  Dancing  Mask  from  Nigeria 146 

77.  Grotesque  Wooden  Figure  from  Nicobar  Islands  .         .         .147 

78.  Carved  Stone  Work  from  Saint  Andrea  —  Pistoja  .        .     148 

79.  Carved  Stone  Figure  of  Christ 149 

80.  Primitive  Bronze  Work .150 

81.  Animal  Forms  reduced  to  Straight  Lines       ....     157 

82.  Squared  Animals  in  Symmetry 158 

83.  Squared  Animals  in  Symmetry 159 

84.  Squared  Animals  in  Symmetry  showing  Rhythmic  Line  Con- 

nections      159 

85.  Primitive  Animal  Forms .160 

86.  Constructive  Development  of  a  Design  .         .         .         .         .     161 

87.  Straight  Line  Conventionalizations  of  Animate  Life       .         .     164 

88.  Straight  Line  Conventionalizations  of  Animate  Life       .         .     164 

89.  Straight  Line  Conventionalizations  of  Animate  Life       .         .165 

90.  Ducks  reduced  to  Straight  Lines 166 

91.  Comparisons  of  Space  and  Mass 167 

92.  Peruvian  Textiles  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .168 


xvi  LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

no.  PAGB 

93.  Hinges  in  Metal 172 

94.  Pen  Sketch,  Chinese  Lily 174 

95.  Decorative  Composition  of  Chinese  Lily       .         .        .         .176 

96.  Rhythmic  Composition  of  Chinese  Lily        ....  177 

97.  Rhythmic  Composition  of  Chinese  Lily        .        .        .        .177 

98.  Symmetrical  Arrangements  of  Chinese  Lily          .        .        .  178 

99.  Surface  Pattern  of  Chinese  Lily  Motif  .         .         .        .179 

100.  Rhythmic  Line  Compositions  of  Japanese  Floral  Arrange- 

ments         184 

1 01.  Faulty  Line  Compositions 184 

102.  Abstract  Demonstrations  of  Unity  with  Variety   .         .         .  185 

103.  Comparative  Studies  of  Abstract  Lines  and  Forms       .         .  186 

104.  Surface  Pattern 188 

105.  Abstract  Flower  Forms 190 

106.  Abstract  Plant  Forms 191 

107.  Abstract  Plant  Forms 192 

108.  Symmetry  and  Balance 194 

109.  Abstract  Plant  Form  within  Circle 195 

no.  Abstract  Plant  Form  within  Circle 195 

111.  Plant  Form  conventionalized  to  fit  Circle     ....  196 

112.  Plant  Form  conventionalized  to  fit  Triangle          .         .         .  197 

113.  Development  of  Abstract  Units 201 

114.  Geometric  Bases  of  Repeat  for  Surface  Patterns  .         .         .  202 

115.  Development  of  a  Surface  Pattern 203 

116.  Development  of  a  Surface  Pattern 205 

117.  Surface  Pattern  from  Abstract  Unit 206 

118.  Nature  Symbols 208 

119.  Surface  Pattern  from  Nature  Symbol 209 

120.  Surface  Pattern  from  Nature  Symbol 210 

121.  Fish  Symbols 214 

122.  Fish  Composition  in  Lines 215 

123.  Surface  Pattern 220 

124.  Basic  Lines  of  Same 221 

125.  Geometric  Bases  of  Surface  Repeats 222 

126.  Line  Arrangement  of  a  Surface  Pattern        ....  222 

127.  Textiles.     (South  Kensington  Museum.)     ....  224 

128.  Japanese  Textile 224 

129.  Japanese  Sword  Guards 225 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS  xvii 

FIG.  PAGE 

130.  Ship  Motif  in  Borders 228 

131.  Ship  Motif 229 

132.  Studies  of  Units  from  Indian  Textiles 239 

133.  Studies  from  Old  Designs 240 

134.  Pen  Sketches  of  Pomegranate 241 

135.  Unit  Suggestions  from  an  Old  Textile          ....  242 

136.  Abstract  Units  following  Study  of  Old  Textiles    .         .         .  243 

137.  Composition  of  Lines  and  Forms  suggesting  Plant  Growth 

within  Circle 244 

138.  Composition  of  Lines  and  Forms  suggesting  Plant  Growth 

within  Circle 245 

139.  Composition  of  Lines  and  Forms  suggesting  Plant  Growth 

within  Circle 246 

140.  Composition  of  Lines  and  Forms  suggesting  Plant  Growth 

within  Circle    .........  247 

141 .  Peacock  Design 247 

142.  Peacock  Design 248 

143.  Peacock  Design  .         . 248 

144.  Peacock  Design 249 

145.  Peacock  Design  .........  250 

146.  Peacock  Design  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .251 

147.  Peacock  Design  .........  252 

148.  Peacock  Design 252 

149.  Peacock  Motifs  from  Various  Sources 253 

150.  Peacock  Motif  carved  on  End  of  Indian  Instrument      .         .  254 

151.  Peacock  Motif  inlaid  on  Table  Leg.     (South  Kensington 

Museum.)        .........  255 

152.  Modern  Peacock  Design 256 

153.  Peacock  in  Ancient  Textile 257 

154.  Peacock  in  Ancient  Textile 258 


LIST   OF   PLATES 

PLATE  PAGE 

I.  Palazzo  Sagredo,  Venice 15 

'  2.  Value  Scale  with  Possible  Combinations        ....  38 

3.  Abstract  Rhythm  and  Balance 41 

4.  Tone  Balance 46 

5.  Tone  Balance 48 

6.  Chair.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)        ....  56 

7.  Detail  —  Outer  Doors  of  Duomo  Verona        ....  58 

8.  Incised  Design  for  Pottery     .......  63 

9.  Constructive  Arrangements  of  Line  and  Form  for  Leather      .  64 

10.  Byzantine  Mosaic,  San  Marco        ......  67 

1 1 .  Sixteenth-Century  Mosaic,  San  Marco 68 

12.  Nature  Symbols 98 

13.  Nature  Symbols 98 

14.  Nature  Symbols 98 

15.  Nature  Symbols 98 

16.  Thirteenth-Century   Chest  —  French.      (South   Kensington 

Museum.)  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .110 

17.  German  Iron  Work.     (Nuremberg  Museum.)        .         .         .113 

18.  Insect  Symbols 116 

19.  Nature  Symbols 117 

20.  Coptic  Weaving.     (Metropolitan  Museum.)           .         .         .  123 

21.  Mediaeval  Cabinet  Work.     (Metropolitan  Museum.)      .         .  128 

22.  Cabinetwork  —  Decadent  in  Design 129 

23.  Coptic  Weaving.     (Metropolitan  Museum.)           .         .         .  130 

24.  Constructive  Designing  .         .         .         .         .         .         .132 

25.  Nature  Symbols  in  Three  Values 138 

26.  Nature  Symbols 138 

27.  Constructive  Designing 160 

28.  Squared  Animals  in  Borders 163 

29.  Squared  Animals  in  Borders 163 

30.  Squared  Animals  in  Rectangle       ......  163 

31.  Peruvian  Textile.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)       .         .  167 

xix 


XX  LIST    OF   PLATES 

PLATB  PACK 

32.  Fifteenth-Century    Textile — Italian.      (South    Kensington 

Museum.) 169 

33.  Nature  Derivatives 178 

34.  Nature  Derivatives 179 

35.  Brocade.     (Metropolitan  Museum.) 183 

36.  Velvet  Brocade.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)         .         .183 

37.  Velvet.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)      ....     184 

38.  Scutari  Velvet.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)  .         .184 

39.  Nature  Symbols 187 

40.  Nature  Symbols 188 

41.  Japanese  Textile 188 

42.  Abstract  Rhythms         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .193 

43.  Japanese  Sword  Guards.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)   .     194 

44.  Chinese  Textile.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)         .         .     194 

45.  Nature  Symbol  —  Rhythm  and  Balance  .         .         .         .196 

46.  Nature  Derivatives  —  Rhythm  and  Balance   ....     197 

47.  Nature  Symbols    .........     207 

48.  Persian  Velvet.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)  .         .211 

49.  Japanese  Textile 212 

50.  Unsymmetrical  Surface  Repeat 213 

51.  Composition  of  Tones,  Measures,  and  Shapes         .         .         .215 

52.  Composition  of  Tones,  Measures,  and  Shapes         .         .         .215 

53.  Composition  of  Tones,  Measures,  and  Shapes        .         .        .     216 

54.  Composition  of  Tones,  Measures,  and  Shapes        .         .         .216 

55.  Japanese  Fish  Print 217 

56.  Renaissance  Carving,  Florence      ......     226 

57.  Japanese  Wood  Carving.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.)  .     227 

58.  Sixteenth-Century  Japanese  Carving      .....     227 

59.  Eighteenth-Century  Japanese  Carving.     (Boston  Museum  of 

Fine  Arts.) 228 

60.  Italian  Textile  —  Fourteenth  Century.     (South  Kensington 

Museum.)  .........     239 

61.  Coptic  Weaving.     (South  Kensington  Museum.)  .        .     243 

62.  Abstract  Nature  Forms 249 

63.  Peacock  Derivative 250 

64.  Peacock  Derivative 251 

65.  Peacock  Derivative 251 

66.  Constructive  Application  of  Motif 256 


DESIGN  IN  THEORY  AND  PRACTICE 


Design  in  Theory  and  Practice 

CHAPTER   I 

Introduction 

'*  Though  we  travel  the  world  over  to  find  the  beautiful,  we 
must  have  it  with  us  or  we  find  it  not. ' '  —  Emerson. 

LET  us  give  emphasis  to  one  point  at  the  start. 
The  ability  to  design  is  not  a  secret  that 
Nature  has  vouchsafed  to  genius  alone.  It 
is  quite  as  much  a  matter  of  persistent  work  as  of  for- 
tuitous inheritance.  Indeed,  there  is  so  much  of  com- 
mon sense  and  orderly  thought  involved  in  the  process 
of  building  up  a  design  that  a  resignation  to  failure  is 
often  an  unconscious  admission  of  one's  own  lack  of 
persistence  and  energy.  There  is  no  vest-pocket 
guide  through  which  one  may  find  a  short  cut  to  dis- 
tinction ;  no  rules  or  recipes  which  one  may  employ  in 
lieu  of  personal  thought  and  effort.  To  be  sure,  we 
cannot  all  produce  work  of  equal  merit  and  interest. 
To  bring  to  that  which  we  do  accomplish  some 
measure  of  understanding  and  appreciation  is  at  least 
worth  while.  Work  always  rises  to  the  level  of  the 
worker — never  higher.     To   give   thought,  that  one 


2        DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

may  do  common  things  uncommonly  well,  is  the  first 
essential   toward  the  achievement  of  important  things. 

A  great  deal  of  the  most  interesting  creative  work 
left  to  us  from  the  past  was  done  at  times  when 
designing  was  more  or  less  an  instinctive  process.  It 
was  instinct  rather  than  reason  that  guided  the 
primitive  worker  at  all  times.  That  is  to  say,  he 
designed  from  the  heart,  not  from  the  head.  He 
made  no  effort  to  analyze  motives  or  define  principles ; 
his  work  was  an  unconscious  response  to  the  needs, 
the  thought,  and  the  life  about  him,  to  the  environ- 
ment in  which  he  lived.  The  same  may  be  said  of 
peasant  work,  and  of  a  considerable  part  of  mediaeval 
crafts  work.  With  us  designing  is  an  intellectual 
process,  self-conscious,  self-critical  at  all  times.  We 
cannot,  if  we  would,  escape  the  traditions  and  prece- 
dents of  the  centuries  preceding  us ;  nor  is  there 
in  the  complex  of  our  own  life  a  thought  or  feeling 
sufficiently  dominant  to  shape  our  work  into  a  distinc- 
tive character  or  style.  More  than  ever  before,  each 
individual  is  a  "  style  '*  unto  himself.  Instead  of  play- 
ing many  variations  of  a  single  tune  we  play  many 
tunes  with  a  variety  of  instruments. 

It  becomes  the  function  of  a  teacher  to  point  out  the 
way  and  call  attention  to  the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  — 
not  to  drive  or  push.  It  is  very  likely  that  there  is  no 
particular  merit  in  any  system  or  method  for  teaching 


INTRODUCTION  3 

design.  In  fact,  the  term  design  implies  a  wide 
margin  of  freedom  for  individual  thought  and  effort. 
Work  that  is  helpful  to  one  pupil  may  not  be  for  the 
best  interests  of  another.  A  soil  in  which  the  rose  will 
thrive  is  not  necessarily  good  for  the  lily.  To  devise 
a  "  system  "  applicable  by  all  and  to  all  is  farthest  from 
the  teacher's  purpose.  He  may  devise  problems  work- 
ing from  the  simple  to  the  complex,  from  the  known 
and  obvious  to  the  unknown  and  difficult;  but  the 
value  of  the  problem  is  in  the  thought  it  frames,  the 
principle  it  defines,  the  stimulus  it  furnishes. 

We  study  design,  then,  to  stimulate  the  imagination 
and  arouse  latent  ideas,  to  develop  original  thought, 
to  strengthen  judgment,  and  to  acquire  the  power  to 
express  ourselves  through  the  terms  and  materials 
employed  in  a  way  that  shall  be,  at  least,  clear  and 
coherent. 

By  imagination  is  meant  the  active,  creative  faculty 
of  the  mind,  not  the  passive  state  of  mind  that  builds 
day-dream  castles  on  a  summer's  holiday.  It  was  a 
creative  imagination  that  dared  the  cantilever  bridge. 

By  original  thought  is  meant  the  simple,  straight- 
forward means  to  an  end,  the  logical  reasoning  from  a 
premise  of  accepted  conditions.  There  is  no  virtue  in 
originality  for  the  sake  of  being  different. 

Mr.  Ruskin  has  said  that  "  drawing  may  be  taught 
by  tutors ;    but  design   only  by  heaven.'*     In   other 


4        DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

words,  we  may  be  taught  to  observe  things  placed 
before  us,  and  to  make  an  adequate,  if  not  an  artistic, 
representation  of  what  we  see.  In  the  representation 
of  a  chair,  for  instance,  we  may  prove  that  a  certain 
Hne  is  right  or  wrong;  it  admits  of  demonstration. 
But  in  designing  a  chair  we  pass  beyond  questions 
of  right  or  wrong  into  fields  where  other  distinctions 
must  be  sought.  A  design  for  a  chair  may  be  interest- 
ing or  uninteresting,  worthy  or  unworthy  ;  but  no  man 
shall  say  this  design  is  right;  that  design  is  wrong. 
A  chair  must  be  comfortable  to  sit  in.  strong  and 
durable  in  all  its  parts.  These  demands  alone 
necessitate  certain  constructive  elements  —  seat,  legs, 
back,  rungs,  possibly  arms.  In  the  adjustment 
of  these  constructive  elements  we  have  the  first 
step  involved  in  the  problem.  Thus  far  distinctions 
of  right  and  wrong  may  admit  of  demonstration. 
Now  supposing  it  is  the  intention  to  make  a  beautiful 
chair :  The  first  clew  will  be  furnished  by  the  various 
constructive  elements ;  in  the  adjustment  of  the  lines 
and  proportions  demanded  by  utility.  But  in  the 
refinement  and  enrichment  of  those  lines  and  propor- 
tions we  are  faced  by  a  problem  answered  only  in 
part  by  utilitarian  demands.  The  chair  may  be  struc- 
turally adequate,  but  stupid  and  altogether  uninteresting 
in  design.  For  the  rest  we  must  possess  that  subtle 
faculty    commonly   called   good    taste.     It  requires  a 


INTRODUCTION  5 

sound  judgment,  an  appreciation  of  fundamental 
principles,  a  criterion  or  standard,  whether  of  natu- 
ral intuition,  or  acquired  through  long  years  of  train- 
ing and  experience,  which  will  lead  us  unerringly  to 
the  interesting  expression  of  an  idea.  To  stimulate 
and  develop  the  creative  faculty  demanded  in  the 
production  of  a  design  for  a  chair  is  quite  a  different 
task  from  developing  the  faculty  of  observation  re- 
quired to  make  an  adequate  representation  of  a  chair. 

To  design  is  to  give  tangible  and  definite  expression 
to  an  idea.  The  term  design  implies  an  interesting, 
possibly  a  beautiful,  at  least  an  orderly,  rendering  of 
this  expression.  It  may  seem  superfluous  to  say 
that  we  must  first  have  an  idea !  Yet  it  is  the  very- 
paucity  of  ideas,  the  lack  of  imagination,  that  forms 
the  first  stumblingblock  in  the  path  which  leads  into 
our  subject.  In  this  age  of  acute  specialization  we 
are  so  dependent  upon  others  for  the  things  which 
we  gather  about  us  in  daily  life  that  few  of  us  know 
the  joy  of  creative  work,  of  planning,  building,  com- 
pleting things.  Where,  indeed,  can  one  who  uses  no 
tools,  practices  no  craft,  attempts  no  creative  work, 
expect  to  evolve  ideas  or  find  a  stimulus  to  the 
imagination  ? 

The  beautiful  things  which  we  treasure  so  carefully 
in  our  museums  and  galleries  were  designed  and 
executed  by  men  with  tools  in  their  hands  in  those 


6        DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

bygone  days  when  art  was  not  afraid  of  the  grime 
and  soot,  the  din  and  clatter  of  a  workshop.  To 
such  men  ideas  came  without  conscious  effort  and  were 
given  expression  in  terms  of  wood,  metal,  stone,  and 
paint  as  part  of  the  day's  work.  There  were  no  artists 
then ;  nothing  but  craftsmen  —  some  better  than 
others.  No  one  thought  of  studying  design;  much 
less  of  teaching  it.  Good  taste  and  sound  judgment 
came  as  a  matter  of  course  during  the  long  years  of 
apprenticeship  at  the  bench.  The  principles  of  de- 
sign were  felt  intuitively ;  but  through  succeeding 
generations  of  imitation  and  adaptation  we  have  too 
often  lost  sight  of  principles  and  borrowed  mere  out- 
ward forms  and  symbols.  We  have  drawn  upon 
ideas  which  were  once  fresh,  real,  and  significant 
because  they  embodied  in  their  expression  something 
of  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  times  in  which 
they  were  used,  but  which  now  appear  as  misapplied 
finery. 

What  is  beauty  ?  How  are  we  to  know  it  when  we 
have  achieved  it  ?  Things  may  be  pretty,  rich,  stylish, 
elegant,  and  still  lack  all  the  essential  elements  of 
beauty. 

Beauty  is  undefinable,  though  it  is  universal.  It 
has  no  style  or  period  or  country.  It  may  appear  in 
an  Indian  basket  woven  under  the  heat  of  an  Arizona 
sun  by  one  whose  life  has  known  no  other  horizon 


INTRODUCTION  7 

than  the  line  of  the  desert  mesa  tops ;  it  may  be 
found  above  the  plains  of  Athens  in  a  form  so  endur- 
ing that  time,  war,  and  pillage  have  been  unable  to 
efface  it. 

If  beauty  is  undefinable,  we  may  at  least  learn  some- 
thing of  the  various  ways  in  which  it  manifests  itself. 
As  we  may  know  a  man  by  the  character  of  his 
acquaintances,  so  may  we  learn  to  recognize  the 
beautiful  in  design  through  the  associations  with  which 
it  has  always  been  found.  The  beautiful  thing,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  is  invariably  sane  and  orderly  in  arrange- 
ment, clear  and  coherent  in  expression,  frank  and 
straightforward  in  an  acceptance  of  all  the  conditions  im- 
posed by  questions  of  use,  environment,  construction, 
tools,  materials,  and  processes.  All  of  these  things  we 
may  analyze ;  we  may  reduce  them  to  simple  terms  for 
purposes  of  study,  and  endeavor  to  establish  definite 
principles  for  our  guidance.  Then,  from  simple  be- 
ginnings through  a  process  of  experiment  and  com- 
parison, a  never  ending  process,  we  may  hope  to  ex- 
press ourselves  in  an  orderly,  consistent  way.  "  We 
try  for  order  and  hope  for  beauty." 

Where  to  begin ;  how  to  begin.  These  are  ques- 
tions which  interest  the  student.  "  Go  to  Nature," 
one  man  says.  "  There  you  will  find  your  inspiration 
and  there  you  will  discover  all  the  clews  to  consistent 
ornament."     Will    you,  though  ?     Nature   is    indeed 


8         DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

necessary  to  the  designer,  but  not  to  the  design.  Nor 
is  it  necessary  to  point  to  a  justification  in  Nature  for 
all  that  we  do  in  design.  One  is  reminded  of  the  old 
Spanish  proverb,  "  He  who  would  bring  home  the 
wealth  of  the  Indies  must  take  the  wealth  of  the  Indies 
with  him."  What  do  you  expect  to  find  in  Nature  ? 
What  message  do  you  expect  she  has  for  you  ?  You 
may  be  sure  she  will  return  to  you  just  what  you  take 
to  her ;  nothing  more.  It  is  like  seeing  faces  in  the 
fire.  To  one  the  fire  is  living ;  the  flames  dance  and 
laugh  and  whisper.  To  another  the  fire  is  merely  a 
bed  of  sputtering  coals  shedding  light  and  heat  through 
the  process  of  combustion.  To  each  the  fire  is  a 
reflection  of  the  individual  mind.  Nature  will  not 
furnish  you  with  an  imagination,  or  teach  you  how  to 
use  the  wealth  which  she  places  at  your  hand.  These 
must  originate  with  you.  If  you  have  them  not,  you 
might  as  well  seek  the  pot  of  gold  at  the  end  of  the 
rainbow  as  to  expect  help  from  Nature.  When  you 
have  learned  to  think  in  terms  of  line,  form,  and  tone, 
and  have  studied  the  possibilities  and  limitations  of  the 
problem  which  you  are  trying  to  solve,  you  may  then 
turn  to  Nature  for  suggestions  and  assistance.  She 
will  never  fail  you. 

"  Go  to  Historic  Ornament,"  another  says.  "In 
the  various  historic  styles  you  will  find  the  key  to 
good  ornament."     And  so  we  continue  to  build  Gothic 


INTRODUCTION  9 

churches,  and  Greek  convention  halls,  and  Queen 
Anne  cottages.  Many  of  our  designers  boast  of  an 
ability  to  design  anything  from  a  chair  to  a  house  in 
any  given  period  or  style  of  ornament  without  an  error 
of  detail.  What  we  most  need  are  workers  who  can 
approach  each  new  problem  unhampered  by  tradition, 
though  open  minded  to  any  structural  suggestions 
which  the  past  may  offer,  seeking  to  express  without 
affectation,  in  a  clear,  straightforward  way,  something 
of  our  lives,  our  times,  and  our  environment.  It  is  a 
superficial  study  of  Historic  Ornament,  a  familiarity 
with  so-called  styles  and  periods,  that  has  given  us  the 
characterless  bog  of  modern  work.  We  have  filled 
our  heads  with  beautiful  details,  as  we  would  gather 
chips  in  a  basket.  Is  it  not  odd  that  we  should  resent 
plagiarism  in  literature  and  music,  but  complacently 
accept  it  as  necessary  in  design  ?  We  are  sometimes 
told  that  originality  is  no  longer  possible  or  desirable ; 
that  our  best  things  have  already  been  done  for  us ; 
that  a  readjustment  of  borrowed  details  is  sufficient. 
But  do  we  not  mistake  the  meaning  of  originality?  It 
may  result  from  a  determination  to  be  unique,  eccen- 
tric, different ;  but  we  may  be  quite  as  original  without 
departing  from  paths  of  order,  simplicity,  and  frankness. 
Problem.  The  first  interest,  and,  in  the  final  anal- 
ysis, the  true  strength  of  a  design  is  to  be  found  in 
the  structural  relation  of  its  various  elements.     First 


I 

10       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

of  all  there  should  be  such  an  adjustment  of  the  space 
and  mass  relations  that  the  effect,  as  a  whole,  will  be 
of  interest.  To  this  end  there  should  be  a  dominant 
space  or  mass,  with  other  spaces  and  masses  subordi- 
nate. Within  these  big  relations  the  details  should  be 
so  disposed  that  the  first  interest  will  be  justified  and 
retained  upon  closer  examination.  The  observer  pro- 
ceeds from  an  impression  of  the  whole  to  a  study  of 
the  parts ;  the  designer  must  put  parts  together  with 
the  effect  of  the  whole  in  mind 

By  space  is  meant  the  part  of  the  design  that  is  left 
untouched.  In  Figure  i  the  space  is  the  plain  weav- 
ing of  the  basketry ;  in  Figure  2  the  spaces  in  each 
design  are  the  spots  of  white,  untouched  paper,  bits 
of  silence  left  as  a  background.  These  background 
spaces,  whether  you  choose  or  not,  become  an  integral 
part  of  the  design. 

By  mass  is  meant  that  portion  of  the  design  which 
is  generally  referred  to  as  the  design ;  namely,  deco- 
ration or  ornament,  whatever  it  may  be.  In  Figure  i 
the  darker  areas  of  weaving  form  the  mass ;  in  Fig- 
ure 2  the  concentration  of  lines  in  each  design  fur- 
nishes a  mass  which,  contrasted  with  the  space,  produces 
the  first  effect,  a  spotting  of  light  and  dark.  By  a 
dominant  space  or  mass  is  meant  a  space  or  mass  that 
is  dominant  in  the  design  by  reason  of  its  tone,  meas- 
ure, or  shape. 


INTRODUCTION 


II 


In  Figure  2,  —  ii,  iii,  iv,  v, — we  find  an  interest  in  the 
big,  simple  spotting  of  the  designs.  By  way  of  com- 
parison, vi,  as  a  line  design^  lacks  force  and  strength. 


Fig.  I. 


We  may  feel  that  we  are  beginning  to  exercise  some 
command  over  our  materials  and  tools  when  we  can 
adjust  these  relations  of  space  and  mass  at  will ;  alter 


12      DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


n 


/M' 


DCZZJD 


ID 


■J         n: 


i\^. 


^IXL 


ta 


Fig.  2. 


INTRODUCTION  13 

their  tones,  measures,  or  shapes  to  conform  to  the  idea 
we  wish  to  express. 

As  a  first  effort  in  design  we  shall  find  our  resources 
sufficiently  taxed  by  a  limitation  to  straight  lines,  ver- 
tical and  horizontal.  Stretch  a  piece  of  transparent 
paper  over  the  squared  underlay ;  draw  with  light 
pencil  lines  a  four-inch  square  with  another  square 
one  quarter  inch  inside  the  first.  Draw  in  the 
center  a  third  square  two  inches  in  diameter  with  a 
fourth  a  quarter  inch  inside  of  this.  We  shall  then 
have  a  result  similar  to  Figure  2,  i.  It  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  say  that  a  rectangle  of  any  other  dimensions  is 
quite  as  well  adapted  to  the  purpose.  From  this  start- 
ing point,  under  the  limitations  imposed,  we  will  en- 
deavor, by  means  of  contrasting  areas  of  light  and 
dark,  to  break  the  square  into  an  interesting  space  and 
mass  spotting.  It  will  be  found  that  a  tone  of  dark  is 
formed  by  the  association  of  two  or  more  lines.  Draw 
a  number  of  lines  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  when  seen 
from  a  distance  of  a  few  feet  they  will  give  the 
appearance  of  a  flat  tone  of  gray  paint.  This  tone 
may  be  darkened  by  increasing  the  widths  of  the  lines, 
or  by  bringing  them  into  closer  association.  A  graphic 
illustration  of  this  is  furnished  in  Figure  3,  three  ren- 
derings of  the  same  motif  in  different  tones.  It  is  ap- 
parent that  the  choice  of  line  is  an  important  factor  to 
be    considered ;  and  it  generally  happens  that  a  first 


14       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


effort  lacks  character  through    the  choice    of  a   thin, 
weak  line. 

Like  every  problem  in  design,  this  one  may  be  solved 
in  a  way  that  is  merely  adequate,  though  totally  devoid 

of  interest.  It 
is  not  alone  a 
question  of  com- 
bining lines  for 
the  sake  of  areas 
of  dark ;  the 
combinations 
must  be  of  suffi- 
cient invention 
and  ingenuity  to 
hold  the  atten- 
tion. It  is  im- 
portant that 
thought  be  given 
to  the  amount  of  parallelism  and  opposition  of  the  lines 
that  make  the  measures  of  dark.  Long  lines  parallel 
with  the  outline  of  the  rectangle  tend  to  strengthen 
the  design ;  but  too  many  parallel  lines  result  in  mo- 
notony. There  should  be  a  spice  of  variety  through 
the  opposition  of  lines ;  but  too  many  sharp  opposi- 
tions may  bring  confusion. 

Now  let  us  see  if  we  can  throw  a  dominant  tone  or 
mass  of  dark  on  to  the  diameter  (Figure  2,  ii),  into  the 


Fig.  3. 


INTRODUCTION 


15 


center  (iii),  to  the  corners  (iv),  or  to  the  outer  sides  of 
the  square  (v),  and  retain  withal  a  contrasting  area  of 
space  or  silence. 

In  order  that  a  right  start  may  be  made.  Figure  4  is 
added  to  show  a  possible  development  of  such  a  prob- 
lem.    It  is  the  purpose  to  throw  the  dominant  mass  of 


1 so 1 

Fig.  4. 

the  design  to  the  outer  sides  of  the  square.  This  is  ac- 
complished at  once  in  the  first  instance ;  but  there  is 
lack  of  interest  elsewhere.  In  the  second  the  big 
space  is  broken  and  the  different  elements  bound 
together.  In  the  third  more  interest  is  given  to  the 
corners,  in  the  fourth  to  the  center ;  but  all  parts  are 
kept  subordinate  to  the  idea  with  which  the  problem 
started. 

In  Plate  i  is  the  finest  possible  adjustment  of  space 
and  mass  relations.  As  a  work  of  art  it  is  more  im- 
portant than  anything  we  may  expect  to  achieve ;  but 
it  is  a  question  of  degree,  not  of  kind. 


CHAPTER    II 
The  Utilitarian  Basis 

'*  Nothing  made  by  man's  hand  can  be  indiiFerent ;  it 
must  be  either  beautiful  and  elevating,  or  ugly  and  degrad- 
ing.**—  William  Morris. 

IT  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  book  to  im- 
part specific  information  for  the  working  of  wood, 
metal,  leather,  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  in  treat- 
ing design  as  theory  and  practice  it  is  not  the  thought 
to  work  out  paper-made  patterns  which  may,  per- 
chance, be  applied  to  some  constructive  problem. 
There  is  peculiar  significance  in  the  little  word  study. 
We  do  not  study  design,  or  music,  or  law  for  imme- 
diate application  and  profit.  We  study  to  acquire 
understanding  and  power.  In  design  we  may  seek  to 
define  on  paper  the  principles  governing  line,  form, 
and  tone  composition  from  a  purely  aesthetic  point  of 
view.  In  a  line  parallel  with  this  development  we 
may  seek  to  define  those  principles  which  give  to  con- 
structive design  vital,  intimate,  organic  character.  But 
the  technical  knowledge  itself  should  be  sought  in  a 
shop,  not  in  a  book.     In  the  happy  union  of  technical 

i6 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS  17 

skill  with  invention,  imagination,  refined  feeling  is  the 
end  to  be  devoutly  wished  for  in  the  work  of  the 
future  craftsman. 

The  evolution  of  a  constructive  design  was  briefly 
touched  upon  in  the  first  chapter.  It  would  be  well 
to  enumerate  the  most  important  points  in  a  concise 
statement.  There  comes  first,  of  course,  an  idea, 
arising,  it  may  be  presumed,  from  a  desire  to  own  or 
make  an  object  of  utility,  convenience,  or  luxury,  pos- 
sessing some  claims  to  beauty.  Given  a  clearly  de- 
fined idea,  use  and  environment  will  lead  one  to  a 
determination  of  the  general  form  and  dimensions. 
Practical  considerations  will  lead  also  to  a  definition 
of  the  essential  constructive  elements  and,  primarily,  to 
a  choice  of  materials.  The  materials  will  naturally 
indicate  the  tools  to  be  employed.  But  with  all  these 
factors  entering  into  the  problem  we  may  achieve 
nothing  more  than  a  merely  adequate  expression  of 
the  idea.  To  give  beauty  to  the  product  we  must 
seek  a  refinement  of  the  construction  through  an  ad- 
justment of  the  relative  proportions  of  the  parts  to 
each  other  and  to  the  whole.  Then  comes,  if  em- 
ployed at  all,  enrichment  on  the  basis  of  all  that  has 
preceded.  Texture,  color,  finish  —  these,  too,  contrib- 
ute to  the  beauty  of  the  whole. 

As  a  formula  the  above  is  useless.  It  means  noth- 
ing until  it  becomes  a  habit  through  practice.     Nor 


1 8       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

must  it  be  assumed  that  the  steps  above  enumerated 
follow  one  upon  another  in  the  precise  order  named  at 
all  times  and  under  all  conditions.  The  enrichment 
does  not  necessarily  await  its  turn  until  all  other  ques- 
tions have  been  solved.  Each  point  mentioned  fur- 
nishes a  clew  to  the  designer  in  the  development  of 
his  product ;  but,  alas  !  only  a  clew.  There  are  many 
crossroads  between  the  idea  and  a  beautiful  expression 
of  it,  many  opportunities  for  the  unwary  to  go  astray. 

Mere  adequacy  is  not  beauty.  The  present  gen- 
eration is  abundantly  endowed  with  practical  sense, 
leading  to  the  remarkable  mechanical  inventions  of 
our  time.  To  pursue  an  idea  through  the  practical 
phase  alone  may  lead  to  a  locomotive,  a  linotype,  a 
machine  gun  ;  in  other  words,  to  the  highest  degree 
of  efficiency.  Complete  efficiency  may  excite  our  ad- 
miration ;  but  beauty  springs  from  an  impulse  that 
craves  more  than  efficient  service. 

Let  us  examine  the  work  of  a  master  craftsman 
who  followed  this  impulse  for  beauty  from  the  clews 
suggested  by  utiHtarian  demands.  There  may  be 
more  important  works  of  art  than  the  little  implement 
in  Figure  5,  fashioned  by  an  Indian  of  the  northwest 
coast  of  America ;  but  in  his  own  primitive  way  he  has 
furnished  for  us  a  valuable  lesson  in  fundamentals. 
The  simpler  the  lesson,  the  clearer  the  precept.  It  is 
a  scraper  for  cleaning  hides  !     This  may  stand  for  the 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS  19 

idea,  —  a  real  need,  something  useful.  With  the 
need  for  a  scraper  established,  utility  at  once  defined 
the  general  form  and  the  constructive  elements,  a  blade 
of  iron,  a  handle  of  wood,  the  two  bound  together  with 
thongs  of  rawhide  smeared  with  pitch.     A  man  who  is 


FIG.  5.  Mu^o^^ 

making  a  tool  for  his  own  use  may  be  depended  upon 
not  to  ignore  the  practical  questions  of  his  problem ; 
but  the  impulse  for  beauty  with  which  Nature  saw  fit  to 
endow  this  Indian  was  of  the  kind  that  seeks  expres- 
sion in  daily  life  and  work.  A  few  thoughtful  touches 
of  a  knife,  and  an  otherwise  useful  tool  becomes  an 
object  of  extreme  interest,  insistent  in  its  personality. 
Being  a  hunter,  this  man's  thought  naturally  turned  to 
a  beast-like  motif  as  the  elements  of  his  design  began 
to  define  themselves.  The  form  of  the  creature  is 
governed  strictly  by  the  function  which  it  has  to  per- 
form as  a  handle ;  each  part,  body,  legs,  and  the  long 
snout  running  out  for  a  brace,  is  shaped  for  efficient 
service;  and  if  you  take  the  scraper  in  hand,  you 
will  find  your  thumb  inevitably  seeking  a  little  hollow 


20       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

made  for  it  between  the  ears.  A  far  less  skillful  de- 
signer might  have  carved  a  far  more  realistic  beast, 
and  yet  failed  to  achieve  the  very  things  which  give 
distinction  to  this  simple  piece  of  craftsmanship.  The 
more  one  studies  it  from  every  possible  point  of  view, 
the  more  consistent  and  satisfying  it  becomes. 

Now  while  it  was  said  that  mere  adequacy  is  not 
beauty,  it  may  likewise  be  said  that  adequate  service  is 
not  incompatible  with  beauty.  The  assumption  that 
art  is  a  luxury,  expensive,  is  the  logical  argument  of  an 
age  that  looks  upon  art  as  something  apart  from  daily 
life,  to  be  donned  on  occasions  like  a  Sunday  coat. 
We  say  that  labor  is  too  dear,  time  is  too  valuable,  to 
bring  art  into  the  shop  and  factory  to-day.  And  yet, 
has  labor  no  other  compensation  than  money  ?  And 
is  time  so  very  valuable,  after  all,  when  spent  in  the  pro- 
duction of  a  thoughtless  product,  of  inutilities,  of  nov- 
elties and  fads,  out  of  fashion  and  consigned  to  the 
scrap  heap  almost  as  soon  as  made  ?  We  may  feel 
sure  that  our  Indian  valued  his  simple  scraper,  would 
fight  for  it  in  fact,  because  it  has  those  requisites  which 
make  possession  worth  while,  —  efficient  service,  good 
workmanship,  thoughtful  design,  personality. 

In  Figure  6  are  two  ladles  from  the  island  of  Java. 
In  the  first,  adequacy  alone  was  sought.  Yet  we  find 
in  the  second  that  the  very  impulse  which  led  the 
worker  to  a  refinement  of  line  and  form  has  resulted 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS 


21 


in  a  more  serviceable  ladle.  That  form  of  bowl  which 
seems  most  useful  is  the  same  form  that  might  be 
chosen  for  beauty's  sake  alone ;  the  curve  of  greatest 
efficiency  chosen  for  the  handle  is  just  the  curve  that  a 


t 


Fig.  6. 


refinement  of  that  functional  element  would  bring  one 
to.  Here,  too,  may  be  noted  in  the  position  and  char- 
acter of  the  enrichment  an  organic  development  em- 
phasizing, but  in  no  wise  impairing,  the  function  of 
the  different  parts  of  the  object.  The  most  interesting 
ornament  is  that  which  seems  to  just  happen,  as  in  this 
ladle,  naturally,  logically,  as  if  there  were  nothing  else 
to  do  under  the  circumstances ;  as  if  the  fancy  of  the 
designer  could  not  resist  the  final  touch,  giving  personal 
interest  to  that  which  was  already  beautiful  in  the 
broadest  sense  of  the  word. 

The  question  of  utility,  of  adequate  service,  arises 


22       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

as  the  first  point  for  discussion  in  determining  the 
general  form  and  essential  elements  of  a  constructive 
problem.  Any  effort  to  achieve  beauty  by  ignoring  in 
the  slightest  degree  the  demands  of  adequate  service  in 
the  object  as  a  whole,  or  in  any  of  its  parts,  to  the  last 
detail,  must  be  condemned  as  a  misdirected  effort.  If 
you  are  not  clear  as  to  what  constitutes  beauty,  are  not 
sure  of  your  own  judgment  in  such  matters,  be  satis- 
fied to  bring  your  fund  of  common  sense  to  bear  upon 
the  one  question  of  adequate  service ;  beauty  will  take 
care  of  itself.  We  may  at  least  commend  the  work  of 
the  man  who  invents  or  makes  a  useful  implement  or 
utensil ;  but  the  man  who  impairs  the  usefulness  of  an 
article  by  trying  to  make  it  beautiful  has  wasted  time 
and  effort.  In  the  work  of  the  master  craftsmen  the 
demands  of  utility  were  faced  squarely. 

The  historic  development  of  any  constructive  prob- 
blem  will  serve  to  illustrate  the  utilitarian  basis  of 
design.  Let  us  choose  the  lighting  problem  as  typical 
(Figure  7).  The  idea  may  be  stated  in  a  single  word, 
light. 

There  was  a  time  when  men  used  fatty  oils  for  pur- 
poses of  lighting.  The  conditions  of  the  problem 
demanded  a  receptacle  for  the  oil,  an  opening  for  the 
wick,  a  base  sufficiently  large  to  give  stability,  with  a 
handle  for  convenience  in  carrying  (i).  Sometimes 
the  vessel  was  suspended   from  chains  (ii),  in  which 


>*!. 


■0f 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS 


23 


r^ 


4^  4> 


Fig.  7. 


24       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

case  facilities  for  attaching  the  chains  would  naturally 
take  the  place  of  a  handle.  In  the  ruder  types  the 
vessel  was  merely  a  shallow  dish  with  open  top ;  in 
examples  of  more  careful  workmanship  (iii)  a  light  of 
finer  quality  was  gained  by  decreasing  the  size  of  the 
opening  to  compress  the  wick.  We  may  well  suspect 
there  was  a  dripping  of  oil  from  those  lights.  A 
means  for  catching  this  drip  of  oil  would  form  an- 
other structural  element  demanded  by  utility,  as  in  ix, 
X,  xi. 

It  is  seen  that  in  meeting  the  problem  of  lighting 
with  oils  several  different  forms  of  lamps  were  devised  ; 
the  structural  elements  were  defined  in  various  ways. 
But  whatever  the  refinements  or  enrichments,  the 
designers  started  from  the  same  point,  —  efficient 
service. 

Then  candles  were  invented  and  the  forms  devised 
for  oil  lamps  became  obsolete.  Candles  presented 
new  elements  from  which  the  designers  took  their 
clews.  A  socket  or  spriket  for  holding  the  candle  in 
an  upright  position  must  be  provided,  with  a  pan  to 
catch  the  drip  from  the  tallow,  and  a  stable  base  as 
before.  Candlesticks  appeared  in  an  infinite  variety 
of  forms  (xii,  xiii,  xiv),  from  the  simple  iron  holder  of 
the  kitchen  to  the  elaborate  chandeliers  of  the  cathe- 
dral.  Sconces  and  brackets  were  fashioned  for  the 
walls  (xv,  xvi) ;  lanterns  were  made  of  horn,  glass,  or 


.#'*^' 


THE    UTILITARIAN   BASIS  2S 

metal  to  protect  the  flame  from  the  wind.  But  the 
point  is  this,  —  that  in  whatever  form  the  candle 
appeared  utility  defined  structural  elements  quite  un- 
like those  of  the  oil  lamps  that  preceded. 

Later  came  gas,  an  illuminant  conveyed  through 
hollow  tubes,  a  new  method  of  lighting  which  over- 
turned the  forms  in  common  use  (vi,  xviii).  Least 
interesting  of  all  were  the  designs  for  gas  fixtures, 
partly  due  to  the  rigid,  uncompromising  limitations 
imposed,  partly  to  the  fact  that  gas  appeared  at  a  time 
when  designing  for  industrial  purposes  was  at  a  par- 
ticularly low  ebb. 

Then  another  kind  of  illuminating  oil  was  dis- 
covered, more  inflammable  than  the  first,  though  pre- 
senting structural  elements  somewhat  akin  to  those  of 
the  earlier  problem  (vii,  xvii).  A  tight  vessel  was 
necessary,  and  a  more  ingenious  burner  assured  a 
steadier  and  more  serviceable  light.  And  now  we  have 
electricity,  unlike  any  of  the  other  methods  of  lighting, 
in  which  a  glass  bulb  attached  to  a  wire  offers  varied 
possibilities  for  the  designer's  invention. 

Now  it  would  seem  that  common  sense  alone  would 
lead  a  designer  to  recognize  in  each  method  of  lighting 
the  demands  for  a  distinctive  treatment  —  that  olive- 
oil  lamps  are  unsuitable  for  candles  ;  that  candlesticks 
are  not  appropriate  for  gas,  and  that  a  pendent  electric 
bulb  diflFers  in  all  essentials  from  the  others.     With 


26       DESIGN  IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

the  utilitarian  basis  as  a  starting  point  we  would 
inevitably  establish  different  structural  elements  for 
refinement  and  enrichment.  Yet  a  visit  to  any  store 
where  lighting  fixtures  are  sold  furnishes  evidence  of 
the  inability  of  modern  commercial  designers  to  grasp 
even  the  simplest  elementary  condition  of  constructive 
design. 

With  what  patience  can  one  discuss  such  things  as 
are  shown  in  Figure  8  !  These  are  not  imaginative 
sketches — would  that  they  were!  They  are  literal 
notes  from  the  "  elegant "  stock  in  trade  of  a  single 
store.  Numbers  i-ii  were  excusable  in  the  early  days 
of  kerosene  and  electricity.  From  a  study  of  the  his- 
tory of  design  the  following  statement  may  be  made : 
The  invention  of  new  materials  and  methods  has  at 
various  times  rendered  obsolete  the  forms  in  common 
use ;  but  whenever  new  materials  or  methods  have 
been  introduced,  the  designers  have  for  a  time  been 
strongly  influenced  by  the  forms  with  which  they  are 
familiar.  The  possibilities  of  the  new  materials  and 
methods  are  not  realized  at  first.  In  the  early  days  of 
the  electric  light  it  was  a  natural  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem to  attach  the  bulbs  to  the  gas  burners  in  common 
use.  But  such  a  treatment  is  no  longer  excusable. 
Still  less  excusable  is  the  treatment  of  the  gas  burner  in 
iii  or  the  candlestick  in  iv  ;  and  what  must  be  the 
mental  state  of  any  man  who  will    screw  a    handled 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS 


27 


candlestick  to  the  top  of  a  newel  post  with  a  Welsbach 
gas  burner  for  a  light !  Consider,  again,  the  mental 
processes    involved    in    the    designing    of   vi-vii,   in 


Fig.  8. 


which  the  designers  have  ignored  every  logical  solution 
of  the  problem  to  go  blindly  groping  back  into  the 
past  in  search  of  forms  which  have  no  possible  func- 
tional relation  to  the  problems  of  lighting  which  they 


23       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

are  trying  to  solve.  In  viii  and  ix  the  designers 
turned  to  Nature  for  assistance ;  but  as  they  took 
nothing  to  Nature  they  received  nothing  in  return. 
A  sea  shell  may  be  beautiful  in  itself;  but  what  excuse 
of  consistency  can  one  find  for  dangling  it  at  the  top  of  a 
tube  with  leaves,  suggesting  floral  or  vegetable  growth  ! 


-R-%,^j^ 


m 


FHmitivp  Spoons 


Fig.  9. 

It  is  interesting  and  profitable  to  carry  the  study 
of  utility  through  a  series  of  the  same  simple  utensil, 
involving  the  same  functional  elements  as  expressed 
under  different  environments  and  conditions.  Fig- 
ures 9, 10,  II  indicate  the  thought.    How  distinctive  is 


h"'^^ 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS 


Z9 


Wood  Civrved  <irad  Pdiated 


m 


Fig.  id. 


that  which  counts  for  art  in  each  spoon  shown.  On 
the  utilitarian  basis  of  handle  and  bowl  each  spoon 
stands  as  a  clear  index  to  the  thought  and  character  of 


30       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

the  one  who  fashioned  it,  and  to  the  environment  in 
which  his  work  was  accomplished. 

Problem.  —  Let  us  clinch  the  thought  of  space  and 
mass  arrangement  by  the  solution  of  another  problem 
which  represents  the  same  material  in  a  slightly  differ- 


ttiBjfd  5pooa  (fromVidek  I*  Due)       Thibetan.  Spoon  •  C^sl  Dr*sj 


Trttich  •  5h«tl-5ilvrr'CnBm»l- 

rWiaevAl  •  Dooe  AposHf  Spoon  •/5    Cent*  Miiy^d  Spoon  and  fbrK      Owedisfe  Spooa- 1500' 


Fig.  II. 


ent  form,  —  the  repetition  of  a  line  motif  through  a 
border.  As  a  limitation  we  will  use  vertical  and  hori- 
zontal lines  as  before,  and  in  addition,  if  so  desired, 
lines  at  45°  right  and  left  oblique.  As  this  is  a  purely 
abstract  problem,  the  width  of  the  border  may  be  left 
to  define  itself  as  the  motif  develops. 

There  is  the  same   element  of  invention   involved 
in  the  combination  of  lines  as  before  and  the  same 


THE    UTILITARIAN    BASIS 


31 


2- 


7^3L-5r=Fg-gT=ri 


^    O 


IP 


m^m^m^m 


(D 


Fig.  12. 


32       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

question  of  space  and  mass  adjustment.  Fill  in  the 
spaces  in  any  one  of  the  designs  in  Figure  1 2  and  note 
the  immediate  loss  of  effect. 

In  a  solution  of  this  problem  we  are  brought  to 
another  important  consideration.  The  mere  repetition 
of  a  unit  at  regular  intervals  is,  at  the  best,  a  mechani- 
cal process ;  we  can  hardly  distinguish  it  by  calling  it 
designing.  But  by  interrelating  or  binding  together 
the  various  units  of  repeat  in  such  way  that  each  unit 
supports  or  completes  its  neighbors  we  are  really  be- 
ginning to  exercise  a  faculty  for  designing.  By  way 
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^...^^^^^__  of  illustration,  in 
""       "'^     ■-"-      C^     *^     1^     ^  Figure  13  there 

is  no    particular 

'  a  line  motif  or  a 

FIG.  13 

geometric  figure. 
Each  unit  stands  severely  by  itself,  scarcely  on  speaking 
terms  with  its  neighbors.  But  in  the  second  section  of 
each  border  a  constructive  character  has  been  imparted 
to  a  solution  of  the  problem  ;  the  results  possess  a  unity 
or  wholeness  in  which  the  units  are  interrelated  or  bound 
together.  We  no  longer  think  of  each  unit  as  having  a 
separate  identity.  The  construction  of  a  design  in  the 
way  here  indicated  is  not  unlike  the  framing  of  a  house  ; 
each  stick  of  timber  must  be  thoughtfully  adjusted. 


THE   UTILITARIAN   BASIS 


33 


Fig.  14. 


made  to  perform  its  function  in  the  whole,  and  in  the 
relation  of  the  timbers,  one  to  another,  depends  the 
strength  and  stability  of  the  structure. 


34       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

Figure  12  shows  several  expressions  of  the  idea. 
In  the  evolution  of  a  piece  of  work  of  this  character 
there  must  be  many  experiments  and  comparisons,  and 
a  final  choice  of  the  best  expression.  The  result  is  not 
complete  until  we  feel  that  no  line,  space,  or  mass  can 
be  altered  without  destroying  the  unity  of  the  whole. 
A  few  trials  will  be  sufficient  to  demonstrate  the  im- 
portance of  each  line  and  area ;  the  slightest  change  at 
any  point  results  in  an  entire  change  of  effect  or  spot- 
ting in  the  whole. 

As  a  continuation  of  this  problem,  and  as  another 
test  of  constructive  skill,  see  if  you  can  turn  your  bor- 
der about  a  corner  at  right  angles  without  disturbing 
the  space  and  mass  relations  of  the  design  (Figure  14). 
In  application  there  are  several  ways  in  which  a  corner 
may  be  treated  ;  in  the  present  instance  one  thought 
alone  is  in  view,  —  to  get  about  the  corner  without 
tripping  or  calling  attention  to  the  corner  through  the 
emphasis  of  either  space  or  mass ;  the  continuity  of 
the  various  lines  and  forms  should  be  unbroken.  The 
corner  may  be  turned  on  the  mass  or  on  the  space,  as 
indicated  by  the  two  small  examples.  In  the  outer 
border  of  this  figure  four  diflferent  ways  of  turning 
the  corner,  as  indicated  in  the  problem,  are  shown. 


.jiflb. 


/ 


CHAPTER    III 

Elementary  Esthetic  Principles 

"  Not  all  the  mechanical  or  gaseous  forces  of  the  world  or 
all  the  laws  of  the  universe  will  enable  you  either  to  see  a 
color  or  draw  a  line  without  that  singular  force  anciently 
called  the  soul.**  —  Ruskin. 

LET  us  now  outline  in  a  purely  elementary  and 
abstract  way  a  definition  of  three  important 
aesthetic  principles.  These  principles  will  be 
given  application  through  practice,  though  it  seems  well 
to  indicate  at  this  point  various  ways  in  which  they 
manifest  themselves. 

To  secure  unity  in  a  design  the  student  seeks: 
(i)  to  lead  the  eye  through  all  the  details  of  the  design ; 
(2)  to  impart  to  the  design  a  sense  of  equilibrium  or 
repose ;  (3)  to  give  to  the  various  terms  and  elements 
employed  some  common  factor. 

First  of  all  comes  rhythm,  which  may  be  defined  as 
"joint  action  or  movement."  The  simplest  manifesta- 
tion of  rhythm  is  through  the  regular  repetition  of  an 
unique  shape.  In  such  a  repetition  there  may  be  no 
actual  sense  of  movement  in  any  particular  direction ; 
nor  is  direction  necessarily  implied  by  the  term  rhythm^ 

35 


36       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

as  it  will  be  used.  This  type  of  rhythm  is  often 
spoken  of  as  the  "  principle  of  repetition."  But  the 
idea  of  repetition,  like  alternation  and  variety,  is  not  in 
itself  a  principle.  Repetition,  to  bring  order  to  the 
elements  of  a  design,  must  be  regular.  The  reason 
for  a  regular  repetition  is  to  enable  the  eye  to  find  a 


Fig.  15. 


way  through  all  the  details  of  a  pattern.  Rhythm,  in 
the  sense  of  "joint  action,"  is  a  broader  term;  — 
although  it  may  be  said  that  there  is  little  to  be 
gained  in  a  discussion  of  words  to  be  applied  to  the 
practice  of  design.  The  thought  involved  is  the  same 
whichever  word  may  seem  most  appropriate.  The 
regular  repetition  of  a  form  occurs  in  the  earliest  efforts 


ELEMENTARY   ESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES 


37 


of  primitive  people  in  design.  So  susceptible  are  some 
of  the  African  negroes  to  the  regular  repetition  of  sounds 
that  the  beating  of  a  stick  on  a  convenient  surface 
will  start  a  rhythmic  response  in  the  nature  of  a  dance. 
Another  simple  type  of  rhythm  occurs  through  the 
interrelation  of  details  in  an  increasing  ratio  of  measures 
from  small  to  large.  This  may  be  termed  measure 
rhythm.     It   is 


^  1     •  ^  r  .         U-»n«r,u  Otitic  /-N^^Wf  R^kro. 

this  type  or 
rhythm  which 
forms  the  basic 
prin  cipl  e  of 
nearly  every 
campanile  in 
Italy,  and  gives 
beauty  to  that 
curve  which  Mr. 
Ruskin  named 
the  Infinite 
Curve.  In  the  case  of  the  campanili  (Figures  15,  16) 
it  may  be  doubted  that  the  builders  started  with  the  idea 
of  expressing  measure  rhythm  in  their  structures.  Con- 
structive logic  alone  would  lead  them  to  increase  the 
voids  at  the  expense  of  the  solids  with  the  upward 
growth  of  their  towers.  The  opposite  course  would 
tend  to  lessen  the  stability  of  the  structures.  But  the 
builders  were  doubtless  conscious  of  the  upward  aspira- 


FlG.  16. 


38       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

tion  of  their  campanili  gained  through  the  regular  in- 
crease in  the  measures  of  the  openings.  The  effect 
of  this  rhythm  of  measures  was  often  enhanced,  as  in 
Giotto's  campanile,  by  a  corresponding  increase  of  en- 
richment. 

In  Plate  2  we  have  another  method  of  imparting  a 
distinct  movement  to  the  details  of  a  design,  —  a 
gradation  of  values  from  light  to  dark.  Here  the 
movement  is  downward  from  the  light  attractive  force 
of  the  higher  values  to  the  strong  attractive  force  of 
the  lower  values.  This  type  of  rhythm  is  employed 
more  frequently  by  the  painter  than  by  the  designer. 

The  construction  of  good  curves  is  a  test  of  one's 
feeling  for  rhythm.  A  few  general  hints  may  be 
offered,  and  their  observance  should  enable  one  to 
venture  beyond  the  commonplace  without  becoming 
entangled  in  the  bizarre  and  fantastic.  By  calling 
geometry  to  our  aid  certain  types  of  curves  may  be 
plotted;  yet  in  practice  we  are  thrown  back  upon  our 
"  curve  sense,"  if  it  may  be  so  expressed.  Our  equip- 
ment may  be  increased  by  the  purchase  of  a  number 
of  the  "  French  curves,"  so  called ;  but  the  best  advice 
is  —  don't.  In  these  mechanical  aids  there  is  no  clew 
to  the  why,  when,  and  where  of  curves.  It  were 
better  to  cultivate  a  curve  sense  through  diligent  study 
and  practice,  and  then  place  dependence  upon  that 
most  remarkable  of  all  instruments,  the  human  hand. 


Q 

•  • 

CD 

@ 

• 

CO 

0  1 

r- 

• 

xO 

^ 

•  • 

> 

® 

^^ 

fO 

«# 

• 

(SI  • 

•  • 

-> 

©  1 

•  • 

1 

1. 

o 


ELEMENTARY   ESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES     39 

Mr.  Ruskin,  in  "  Modern  Painters,"  calls  the  circle 
the  "  finite  curve."  Any  section  of  a  circle,  if  com- 
pleted, returns  upon  itself;  a  segment  from  one  portion 
is  the  same  in  shape  as  a  segment  from  another  portion. 
The  circle  has  unity,  but  lacks  variety. 

There  is  another  kind  of  curve  which  Mr.  Ruskin 
calls  the  "  infinite  curve  "  —  more  subtle  and  with 
greater  beauty  than  the  circle.  It  is  the  curve  that 
Nature  most  loves,  which  she  seems  ever  striving 
to  attain.  Seek  where  you  will,  from  the  blade  of 
grass  to  the  shells  on  the  beach,  you  will  find  this 
"  infinite  curve,"  the  curve  of  living,  growing  things, 
of  force  and  vitality.  With  T-square  and  triangle  one 
may  be  readily  plotted  on  an  arithmetic  or  geometric 
sequence  of  lines  and  angles.  As  an  illustration  of 
the  former  Figure  15  will  serve  our  purpose.  Here 
the  lengths  of  the  segments  increase  in  rhythmic 
measures,  the  angles  remaining  the  same.  We  may 
be  sure  that  a  curve  passing  through  these  angles  will 
be  a  beautiful  curve.  The  angles  might  also  increase 
in  acuteness,  or  vice  versa ;  the  possible  combinations 
are  many.  The  curve  may  unfold  itself  to  the  end 
of  time  ;  it  will  never  return  to  its  starting  point.  In 
such  a  curve  there  is  variety  with  unity. 

There  are,  of  course,  other  curves  that  may  be 
plotted  with  instruments,  such  as  the  curve  of  the 
ellipse,  the  oval,  the  cycloidal  curve.     But  the  impor- 


40       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

tant  thing  is  to  appreciate  why  the  infinite  curve  or 
"  curve  of  force  '*  is  beautiful.  It  is  not  to  be  inferred 
that  this  curve  is  always  best  in  practice ;  the  choice 
of  a  curved  line,  and  its  relation  to  the  other  lines  of  a 
design,  brings  one  back  to  the  "  curve  sense  "  which 
may  be  cultivated  through  thoughtful  observation  and 
practice.  A  comparative  study  of  the  profiling  of 
moldings  in  the  work  of  the  Greek  and  Gothic 
builders,  of  the  designers  of  the  Renaissance  and 
Japan,  of  the  lines  and  forms  from  Nature^s  store- 
house —  such  study  may  contribute  much  to  the  culti- 
vation of  the  feeling  for  appropriate  curves.  It  is  a 
live  curve  that  interests  us  most,  sometimes  approach- 
ing a  straight  line,  again  swinging  full  and  clear; 
sometimes  reversed,  ever  subtle  and  varied  in  its 
course.  It  may  be  an  "  eccentric  "  curve ;  but  if  it  is 
to  be  beautiful,  it  must  never  be  uncertain  or  lacking 
in  firmness.  A  curve  has  rhythm  and  balance,  is 
subject  to  the  laws  of  proportion.  There  is  no  better 
device  for  charting  its  course  than  the  hand,  with  an 
eye  for  compass  and  a  clear  head  at  the  top. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  principle  of  rhythm  is 
one  over  which  the  designer  must  have  intelligent  and 
complete  control  in  the  orderly  adjustment  of  the 
many  attractive  forces  with  which  he  is  working.  He 
may  emphasize  the  movement,  check  it,  or  subordinate 
it  to  other  demands,  divert  it  to  or  concentrate  it  in 


PLATE  3. 
Abstract  Rhythm  and  Balance. 


% 


ELEMENTARY   .ESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES    41 

any  portion  of  the  design  to  which  it  may  seem  desir- 
able to  give  dominant  interest.  The  movement  may 
be  so  apparent  that  even  a  casual  observer  will  note  its 
presence  ;  or  it  may  be  so  subtle  that  it  baffles  analysis. 
There  may  be,  indeed,  no  actual  feeling  of  movement, 
—  merely  such  interrelation  of  parts  that  the  details 
hold  together  as  a  unity. 

In  Plate  3  is  a  rhythmic  motif  Its  rhythm  is  due 
partly  to  the  increase  of  measure  from  bottom  to  top, 
and  partly  to  the  reciprocal  relations  of  the  contour 
lines.  It  is  what  may  be  termed  a  dynamic  shape,  in 
which  all  forces  combine  to  pull  the  eye  upward.  The 
Italian  campanili  are  dynamic  in  character ;  the  Egyp- 
tian pyramids  are  static ;  the  one  suggests  an  upward 
aspiration ;  the  other  immovability.  The  eye  natu- 
rally moves  upward.  A  downward  movement  of  at- 
tractive forces  may  count  for  stability  in  a  structural 
form,  or  may  serve  to  counteract,  to  some  extent,  the 
strength  of  the  upward  movement.  In  a  reversal  of 
this  shape  (Figure  15)  it  requires  a  conscious  effort 
for  the  eye  to  move  downward  ;  and  one  naturally 
feels,  in  this  instance,  that  the  unit  is  bottom  side  up. 
In  Plate  3,  ii,  the  upward  movement  of  the  spot 
is  emphasized  and  hastened  by  a  repetition  with  grada- 
tion of  measures.  In  iii  the  regular  repetition  of  this 
rhythmic  unit  furnishes  an  instance  in  which  move- 
ment, for  its  own  sake,  is  made  the  dominant  feature 


42       DESIGN   IN  THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

of  the  result.  But  this  little  design  serves  to  illustrate 
the  assertion  that  rhythm  alone  is  not  enough.  The 
need  is  felt  for  rest  and  repose  in  the  result.  In  iv 
still  further  emphasis  is  given  to  the  dynamic  character 
of  the  unit  by  the  addition  of  a  tone  gradation  ;  but 
here  there  is  a  restraint  imposed  upon  the  restless  ac- 
tivity of  the  attractive  forces  composing  the  unit.  In 
this  balance  of  two  equal  forces  the  eye  unconsciously 
seeks  a  point  or  line  of  equilibrium  between  them.  It 
will  be  found,  then,  that  in  iv,  while  the  forces  count- 
ing for  movement  are  stronger  than  in  iii,  there  is  a 
counteracting  influence  at  work  to  impart  some  element 
of  repose  to  the  result. 

In  this  symmetrical  adjustment  of  attractive  forces 
we  have  the  simplest  and  most  obvious  manifestation 
of  balance,  an  arrangement  in  which  equal  forces  are 
opposed  on  a  point  or  line  of  equilibrium.  This  type 
of  balance  is  so  generally  understood  and  recognized 
that  it  seems  hardly  necessary  to  give  it  definition. 
But,  in  a  definition  of  the  principle  of  balance,  it  is 
well  to  consider  symmetry  as  its  simplest  manifestation. 
Symmetry  involves  an  opposition  of  equal  and  similar 
attractive  forces  on  a  line  or  about  a  central  point. 
In  the  case  of  an  opposition  on  a  central  line,  vertical 
rather  than  horizontal  symmetry  is  generally  implied. 
Radial  symmetry  is  not  in  itself  necessarily  pleasing. 
It  often  represents  a  pulling  apart  of  contending  forces. 


ELEMENTARY   ESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES    43 

More  important  than  radial  symmetry  are  the  rhythmic 
connections  employed  to  bind  these  contending  forces 
into  unity. 

In  the  earliest  extant  artistic  remains  of  the  human 
race,  symmetry  appears  as  a  basis  of  ornament.  In 
his  efforts  toward  an  art  expression,  man  endeavored 
to  arrange  or  dispose  his  ideas  in  an  orderly  way. 
The  first  manifestations  of  order  appear  through 
regular  sequence  and  alternation,  and  through  sym- 
metry. And  in  the  entire  development  of  primitive 
art,  from  the  least  important  productions  to  the  carv- 
ing of  an  idol,  there  is  ever  present  a  keen  sense  of 
appreciation  for  the  beauty  of  symmetry.  In  Nature 
symmetry  appears  as  the  constructive  basis  in  organic 
and  inorganic  life,  from  the  crystal  to  the  human  figure. 

But  in  Nature,  as  well  as  in  a  more  finely  organized 
system  of  design,  actual  symmetry  often  gives  place  to 
a    more     subtle  ^ 

type  of  balance.         ^^^^  .^5^-^^B 

In  Figure  17, 
the  second  ex- 
ample, the  effect 
of  symmetry  is 
retained   in   a 

motif   in   which  ^^^-^7. 

the  attractive  forces  involved  are  the  same  in  tone  and 
measure  but  unUke  in  shape.     In  any  discussion  of  bal- 


44       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

ance  in  design  it  is  desirable  to  revert  to  the  laws  of 
physical  balance  ;  the  underlying  principles  are  the  same. 
In  symmetry  the  opposing  attractive  forces  are  the  same 
in  line,  form,  and  tone  (Figure  17).  Now,  how  may 
we  balance  oppositions  which  exert  unequal  attractive 
forces?     In  Figure  18,  i,  the  actual  symmetry  is  de- 


HUK 

■1 

n        ill 

■i  ■      ! 

D3.Id»n.<:e  of  nc^^vrcj 

Fig.  18. 

stroyed.  If  these  were  physical  forces,  they  would  be 
balanced  by  drawing  a  line  to  connect  their  centers. 
Then  we  would  seek  on  this  line  the  point  of  equilibrium. 
In  ii  one  of  the  measures  of  the  opposition  of  forces  has 
been  doubled.  The  attractive  forces  of  the  two  spots 
may  be  expressed  by  the  formula  one-two.  To  balance 
them  we  would  divide  the  line  connecting  centers  into 


ELEMENTARY   AESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES     45 

three  equal  parts,  the  sum  of  the  forces  exerted,  and  re- 
versing the  ratio  give  to  the  larger  spot  one  third  of  the 
line  and  to  the  smaller  spot  two  thirds.  In  iii  are  three 
spots  exerting  attractive  forces  which  may  be  expressed 
by  the  formula,  one-,  one-two.  The  point  of  equilibrium 
may  be  found  by  balancing  two  of  the  spots,  then  by 
balancing  these  two  with  the  third,  as  indicated.  In  iv 
another  factor  enters  into  the  problem  ;  the  tone  of  one 
of  the  spots  has  been  changed,  and  in  consequence  its 
attractive  force  is  decreased.  There  may  be  a  mathe- 
matical formula  for  determining  the  point  of  equilib- 
rium, but  its  complications  are  so  many  and  its  results 
of  such  doubtful  value  that  it  is  unwise  to  pursue  the 
mathematics  of  it  further.  It  is  readily  seen  that  the 
principle  is  the  same,  but  that  mathematics  gives  way 
to  judgment.  In  balancing  attractive  forces  differing 
in  tone,  in  measure,  and  in  shape,  we  are  thrown  still 
more  upon  judgment  and  sensitive  feeling  in  estab- 
lishing a  point  of  equilibrium.  But  if  we  were  to 
inclose  varied  attractive  forces  within  a  rectangle,  we 
would  see  to  it  that  the  balance  point  of  the  attractive 
forces  coincides  with  the  center  Hne  of  the  inclosing 
form. 

Now  we  have  to  consider  still  another  type  of  bal- 
ance, related  only  indirectly  to  the  definition  above, — 
a  balance  of  the  values  of  our  scale.  In  balancing 
lines  and  forms  we    were  concerned    chiefly  with  the 


46       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

physical  law  of  balance ;  but  in  balancing  contrasts  of 
values  and  colors  we  pass  beyond  any  possible  assist- 
ance from  mathematics  to  questions  decided  only  by 
careful  discrimination  and  sensitive  feeling. 

We  sometimes  speak  of  a  balance  of  two  tones,  as  in 
Plate  4,  i,  having  in  mind  the  distribution  and  the 
approximately  equal  quantities  of  the  tones.  In  the 
same  way  we  sometimes  speak  of  a  balance  of  several 
tones,  referring  to  their  relative  measures  and  distribu- 
tion. But  this  is,  in  reahty,  the  same  idea  that  was  dis- 
cussed in  a  preceding  paragraph.  In  a  more  direct  sense 
quantity  is  not  an  essential  factor  in  a  tone  balance. 
It  is  more  a  question  of  contrasts.  In  ii  of  this  same 
plate  is  a  balance  of  value  contrasts.  The  two  ends  of 
the  scale  have  equal  contrasts  on  a  middle  ground. 
The  white  is  just  as  much  lighter  than  that  ground  as 
the  black  is  darker.  In  Plate  5,  i  is  another  balance 
of  values.  The  contrast  of  dark  on  the  middle 
ground  is  balanced  by  the  contrast  of  light  on  the 
same  ground.  In  ii,  the  balance  is  deliberately  upset 
in  order  to  give  dominant  interest  to  the  flowers. 
Their  attractive  force  is  materially  increased  by  giv- 
ing them  a  much  stronger  contrast  on  the  background. 
In  Plate  3,  vi  there  is  a  pleasing  adjustment  of  the 
tones  of  the  design,  gained  through  a  rhythmic  inter- 
relation of  the  details  and  a  balance  of  values  on  a 
middle  ground.      This  combination    of  rhythm  and 


li^ 


*. 


ELEMENTARY   .ESTHETIC    PRINCIPLES     47 

balance  gives  the  most  satisfactory  rendering  shown  of 
the  little  motif  indicated  in  i  of  this  plate. 

Balance,  then,  like  rhythm,  should  be  carefully 
considered  by  the  student  in  order  that  he  may  work 
with  definite  aim  and  purpose,  with  a  complete  com- 
mand over  the  terms  in  which  he  essays  to  express 
himself 

Harmony  is  a  broader  term  than  either  rhythm  or 
balance  ;  it  may  in  fact  involve  one  or  the  other,  or 
both,  of  these  terms.    It  consists  in  shunning  differences  j  \ 
too  pronounced,  contrasts  too  startling ;  in  giving  to  I  | 
the  various  elements  of  a  design  something  in  com- 1 
mon.     Uniformity  of  details    in  tone,    measure,    and 
shape  might  be  defined  as  a  perfect   harmony.     But 
uniformity  is  assuredly  not  the  most  pleasing  mani- 
festation of  harmony.     The  eye  craves  contrast,  vari-  1  ( 
ety  ;  how  far  to  go,  where  to  stop,  is  the  problem  of    1 
the  designer.     Theoretically  an  octagon  and  a  circle 
would  be  more  harmonious  in  the  element  of  shapes 
than  a  square  and  a  circle.     But  it  may  be  that  the 
contrast  offered  by  the  square  and  circle  is  of  more 
interest  than  the  former  combination.     In  Figure   19 
the  first  example  offers  extreme  contrasts  between  the 
border  and  field.     It  would  seem  here  that  the  differ- 
ences are  too  pronounced.     In  the  second  example  a 
border  has  been  designed  that  is  more  harmoniously  re- 
lated to  the  field ;  the  similarities  are  more  noticeable 


48       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

than  the  differences.  It  is  unwise,  then,  to  attempt  to 
define  harmony  through  any  formula,  or  general  state- 
ment ;  it  is  a  question  that  comes  home  to  each  problem 
on  its  own  merits.     Incongruous  elements  may  be  har- 

Fig.  19. 

monized  through  association  in  rhythm  and  balance  in 
which  their  separate  identities  are  lost  and  the  eye 
grasps  them  as  a  whole. 

A  question  of  harmonious  measures  brings  one  at 
once  to  the  discussion  of  proportion.*  In  a  question  of 
tones  one  may  say,  from  an  abstract  point  of  view,  that 
the  second  example  in  Plate  4  achieves  the  idea  of  both 
balance  and  harmony.  Black  and  white,  the  extremes 
of  value,  is  the  most  severe  test  one  can  give  to  a  de- 
sign. In  Plate  5  the  first  example  represents  a  more 
complete  harmony  of  values  than  either  of  the  two  pre- 
ceding ;  as  values  they  have  more  in  common. 

A  style  or  period  in  art  may  be  recognized,  in  a 

*  Chapter  VII. 


u 

Ph  Z 

o 
H 


ELEMENTARY  iESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES     49 

broad  way,  as  a  manifestation  of  harmony,  —  the  re- 
currence of  a  type,  the  persistence  of  similar  ideas  and 
forms  under  varying  conditions.  It  is  this  that  dis- 
tinguishes Greek  from  Gothic,  and  Japanese  from 
either  of  the  others.  There  is,  too,  the  harmony  of 
association  in  the  forms  and  motifs  employed.  One 
would  not  attach  roses  to  thistle  leaves,  or  highly 
conventionalized  flowers  to  a  naturalistic  stem.  Much 
of  the  beauty  of  primitive  work  is  due  to  the  harmony 
between  the  idea,  the  materials,  and  the  forms  em- 
ployed. Primitive  art  is  directly  related  to  and  ex- 
pressive of  primitive  thought  and  needs. 

It  may  be  pertinent  to  remark  that,  however  thor- 
oughly one  may  study  an  abstract  demonstration  of 
principles,  there  must  enter  into  any  design  a  quality 
which  is  beyond  analysis  and  which  can  be  imparted 
from  one  to  another  only  in  an  indirect  way.  That  is 
the  touch  of  individuality,  the  personal  quality  that 
clothes  dry  bones  with  life,  vitality,  and  interest.  To 
understand  the  essential  principles  of  design  is  one 
thing ;  but  this  understanding  is  merely  a  means  to  an 
end.  In  any  work  that  is  worth  while  there  must 
enter  a  live  and  vigorous  imagination,  a  freedom  and 
spontaneity,  without  which  a  design  becomes  formal 
and  deadly  uninteresting.  We  may  call  it  the  play 
impulse,  if  we  choose,  an  evidence  of  pleasure  and  joy 
in  the  work  that  comes  from  under  one's  hand.     In 


50       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

nearly  all  primitive  work,  and  in  the  work  of  the  medi- 
aeval craftsmen,  there  is  ample  evidence  of  this  play- 
impulse.  In  the  work  of  these  men  there  appears  a 
quaint  and  whimsical  grotesque  quality  that  is  irresist- 
ible in  its  appeal.  We  come  upon  it  in  the  most  un- 
expected places,  in  the  basket  or  on  the  carved  idol, 
on  the  front  of  the  altar  or  on  the  carving  of  the  choir 
screen ;  no  place  is  entirely  free  from  it.  There 
seems  no  good  reason  why  a  design  should  not  enter- 
tain us,  even  amuse  us,  and  yet  be  as  serious  in  its 
aim  and  purpose  as  if  we  were  to  approach  the  subject 
in  a  spirit  of  bespectacled  wisdom. 

Problem  (Figure  20).  This  problem  is  one  of 
space  and  mass  composition  with  an  interrelation  of 
parts,  like  those  preceding  it,  except  that  we  are  now 
working  directly  in  areas  instead  of  in  lines.  It  was 
said  that  the  background  or  space  is  just  as  important 
as  the  mass  of  the  design.  You  will  note  the  renewed 
force  of  the  statement  if  you  will  try  to  think  of  the 
borders  in  this  plate  ;  —  first,  as  designs  of  black  on  a 
white  ground,  then  as  designs  of  white  on  a  black 
ground.  The  interest  is  in  the  unity  of  black-and- 
white  elements.  If  the  whites  are  left  to  chance  and 
become  mere  holes,  due  to  the  repetition  of  a  black 
unit,  the  interest  decreases.  Each  element  should 
strengthen  and  support  the  other.  In  the  first  two 
problems  variety  with  unity  was  sought  in  the  positions 


ELEMENTARY   ^ESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES     51 


Fig.  ao. 


52       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

and  directions  of  lines  ;  here  it  is  variety  in  the  shapes 
and  measures  of  the  areas  employed.  Avoid  the  mo- 
notonous single  unit  of  measure  found  in  the  Greek 
fret;  avoid  with  equal  care  an  extreme  in  the  other 
direction,  a  confusion  of  forms  which  the  eye  finds  it 
difficult  to  relate.  Any  one  can  achieve  an  example 
of  variety  ;  in  itself  it  has  no  special  virtue.  The  skill 
of  the  designer  appears  in  combining  varied  elements 
into  a  consistent  whole.  The  mind  finds  a  certain 
sense  of  satisfaction  in  the  recurrence  of  a  unit  of  meas- 
ure in  a  design  ;  yet  the  unit  of  measure  need  not 
assert  itself  in  a  way  that  is  stupidly  obvious. 

In  the  present  problem  it  becomes  a  process  of 
spotting  out  areas  of  white  with  black,  or  vice  versa^  as 
the  design  progresses  toward  completion.  It  will  no 
doubt  take  a  number  of  trials  before  that  subtle, 
scarcely  definable  quality  which  challenges  and  holds 
the  interest  is  secured.  The  result  should  be  a  care- 
fully tuned  symphony  of  space  and  mass,  under  limita- 
tions as  to  directions  of  lines  imposed  in  the  last 
problem. 

It  is  notable  that  the  second  border  in  Figure  20  is 
reminiscent  of  the  Chinese  frets,  while  the  other  three 
have  more  the  character  of  Indian  designs.  And  why 
should  this  not  be  so  ?  It  is  quite  probable  that  if  we 
work  under  similar  limitations  toward  similar  ends,  we 
may  come  to  conclusions  not  unHke  those  that  others 


ELEMENTARY  .ESTHETIC   PRINCIPLES     53 


ifiS 

!b=3i5 

EJG 

ElfZl 

,MA;                  1 

Fig.  21. 


54       DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

have  achieved.     Yet  our  work  may  be  none  the  less 
"  original  "  in  the  true  sense  of  the  term. 

In  Figure  21  are  examples  of  work  from  Indian 
weavings  quite  similar  in  character  to  our  problem. 
The  American  Indians,  in  their  blankets,  baskets,  and 
pottery,  developed  a  remarkable  feeling  for  space  and 
mass  relations  ;  their  work  was  invariably  strong,  virile, 
insistent.  We  are  surely  loath  to  credit  a  poor  old 
Indian  woman  with  more  artistic  invention  than  we 
can  claim  for  our  own  efforts ! 


CHAPTER    IV 
Constructive  Designing 

"  Romance  and  sentimentality  had  no  part  in  the  creation 
of  Gothic  Architecture  ;  it  was  molded  to  the  forms  under 
which  we  find  it  by  carefully  satisfying  social  and  individual 
requirements  and  diligently  observing  the  stern  necessities 
of  convenience  and  economy.''  — Jackson. 

IN  the  concrete  expression  of  an  idea  the  designer 
finds  that  the  trail  leads  through  principles  of 
two  closely  related  kinds,  —  the  aesthetic  and  the 
practical.  The  former  deals  with  composition,  refine- 
ment, enrichment,  texture,  color,  finish,  etc. ;  the 
latter  with  utility,  construction,  tools,  materials,  pro- 
cesses, etc.  But  in  practice  there  cannot  be,  or  should 
not  be,  in  the  mind  of  the  designer  any  conscious 
distinction  between  the  aesthetic  and  the  practical. 
The  one  is  to  the  other  as  feathers  to  the  bird ;  we 
cannot  say,  "  Here  are  feathers,  counting  for  beauty  ; 
that  which  remains  is  bird."  It  is  quite  in  accord  with 
modern  thought  and  practice  to  assume  that  a  practical 
man  may  attend  to  the  practical  side  of  a  problem, 
leaving  an  artist  to  ornament  or  decorate  it.  We  even 
look  upon  the  terms  ornament^  decoration  and  design 

55 


56       DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND    PRACTICE 


as  synonymous ;  applied  design  as  something  that  Is 
applied  to  something.  We  put  "designs"  upon  a 
thing,  hoping  thereby  to  make  it  beautiful,  or  to  cover 
up  shabby  workmanship,  as  the  case  may  be. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  organic  relation  of  the  aes- 
thetic and  practical,  note  the  chair  in  Plate  6.     It  is 

clear  that  beauty 
has  been  achieved 
through  the  con- 
structive use  of 
wood,  leather, 
and  tacks  ;  the  de- 
signer has  merely 
given  aesthetic 
arrangement  to 
practical  features. 
There  is  no  "or- 
nament," in  the 
usual  acceptance 
of  that  term  ;  or, 
if  we  choose  to 
call  the  tacks  or- 
nament, we  shall 
find,  like  the 
feathers  on  the 
bird,  that  they  are  performing  a  very  commonplace, 
functional  purpose.     The  legs  might  be  called  enrich- 


FlG.  22. 


PLATE  6. 
Chair.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING 


57 


ment,  refinement,  or  construction,  aesthetic  or  practical, 
for  they  are  entitled  equally  to  all  these  terms.  In  other 
words,  the  designer  of  the  chair  was  concerned  as  much 
with  his  practical  questions  as  with  aesthetic  problems  — 
and  made  no  conscious  effort  to  distinguish  between 
them.  He  did  not  build  his  chair  and  then  set  about 
the  problem  of  trying  to  "  make  it  beautiful."  The 
beauty  of  the  chair  in  Figure  22  is  of  the  same  sort. 
The  little  carved  rosettes  on  the  arms  are  not  "  applied 
designs"  ;  they 
are  merely  de- 
tails of  a  design^ 
a  touch  of  en- 
richment as  in- 
evitable as  the 
leaves  that  come 
forth  on  the  trees 
in  the  spring. 

Of  similar  na- 
ture is  the  work 
in  Figure  23,  the 
joinery  of  a  shop- 
trained  man 
turned  to  an  aesthetic  purpose.  In  fitting  his  rails  and 
panels  together  he  has  been  economical  of  labor  and 
materials,  has  adopted  methods  suggested  by  his  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  practical  phases  of  his  prob- 


FiG.  23. 


58       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

lem,  —  but  always  with  the  aesthetic  end  in  view.  In 
Plate  7,  the  carved  doors  of  the  Duomo  at  Verona,  the 
refinement  and  enrichment  have  been  carried  further, 
the  logical  conclusion  of  such  an  idea  as  that  in  Figure 
23.  Here,  surely,  is  something  that  may  be  identified 
as  "ornament"  or  "applied  design.'*  But  it  should 
be  noted  that  the  carving  does  little  more  than  continue 
the  thought  set  forth  in  the  construction  ;  —  it  counts 
for  beauty  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  purely  struc- 
tural bronze  bolt  heads.  It  is  built  in,  —  not  built  on; 
and  between  the  two  there  is  a  vast  distinction.  This, 
then,  is  the  best  thought  of  ornament,  —  the  enrichment 
of  refined  construction  ;  not  design,  hut  par ^  of  a  design. 
Figure  24  furnishes  good  illustrations  of  the  func- 
tional development  of  ornament.  Note  the  way  in 
which  the  carving  is  tucked  in  at  the  end  of  the  plane 
where  it  may  bump  into  rough  usages,  while  it  attains 
its  boldness  on  the  handle  where  it  is  protected  from 
damage.  In  the  Roman  ladle  the  head  seems  to  grow 
from  the  refined  lines  of  the  handle  as  if  there  were  no 
other  conclusion  possible.  Study  the  position  and 
nature  of  the  ornament  in  the  lamp.  Here  again  it  is 
difficult  to  say  where  construction  ends  and  ornament 
begins ;  how  much  of  the  distinction  is  attributable  to 
the  practical,  how  much  to  the  aesthetic.  In  each  ex- 
ample it  was  a  process  of  turning  practical  principles 
to  aesthetic  account. 


M. 


PLATE  7. 
Detail — Outer  Doors  of  Duomo  Verona. 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING 


59 


The  simplest  type  of  designing,  in  the  concrete, 
must  be  that  in  which  the  worker  has  achieved  the 
utmost  beauty  possible  through  refinement  of  construc- 
tion, with  a   sympathetic  use  of  materials  employed. 


Refinvmvnt    «Ln<i    Enrichment 
of  Functioned   Elvmeata   Sfs* 


Fig.  24. 

He  need  not  go  beyond  this  to  produce  beauty  of  the 
highest  order.  And  the  term  ornamenty  if  prop- 
erly understood,  implies  an  enrichment  of  this  con- 
struction, not  as  an  afterthought  but  as  an  integral 
part  of  the  whole.  The  design  begins  with  the  first 
tentative  blocking  out  of  the  idea,  continues  through 


6o       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

an  immediate  interplay  between  the  practical  and  aes- 
thetic principles  to  the  final  touch.  Ornament  cannot 
be  thought  out  before  the  construction,  nor  should  it 
be  applied  after  constructive  problems  have  been 
solved.  Working  from  a  constructive-design  point  of 
view  there  seems  no  reason  why  one  should  strive  to 
"  adapt "  this  or  that  style  or  period  of  ornament  to 
his  work.  To  build  a  "  Greek  style  *'  house  is  to  put 
the  cart  before  the  horse,  —  to  make  practical  questions 
subordinate  to  a  borrowed  aesthestic  idea.  It  was  not 
thus  that  the  Greek  style  was  developed.  That  archi- 
tecture which  was  peculiar  to  Greece  was  of  gradual 
formation  and  represented  the  aesthetic  expression  of 
practical  principles  ;  it  grew  out  of  the  thought,  feeling, 
and  environment  of  the  people,  a  combination  of  pecul- 
iar circumstances  which  has  long  since  passed  away. 
Quite  as  distinctive  in  its  time  and  place  was  a  Japa- 
nese temple.  To  adapt  either  of  these  styles,  in  part  or 
in  whole,  to  our  needs  is,  to  say  the  least,  a  confession 
of  incompetence. 

Much  of  the  characterless  work  of  to-day  comes 
from  lack  of  knowledge  of  materials.  Add  to  this 
a  lack  of  practical  constructive  skill  on  the  part  of  de- 
signers and  we  have  another  count  in  the  indictment. 
Let  the  student  of  design  build  things  with  his  hands, 
or  enter  into  active  cooperation  with  men  whose 
business  it  is  to  build  things.     Probably  it  is  not  pos- 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING  61 

sible  for  the  student  of  architecture  to  work  in  the 
quarry,  the  brickyard,  and  the  lumber  camp,  or  serve 
apprenticeship  to  the  stone  mason,  the  bricklayer,  and 
the  carpenter  as  a  preliminary  to  the  practice  of  his 
profession  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  he  might  employ  to 
better  advantage  "  on  the  job  "  some  of  the  time  now 
spent  in  assimilating  styles,  orders,  traditions  of  the 
past,  and  thereby  make  architecture  more  vital  as 
an  aesthetic  expression  of  practical,  twentieth-century 
problems.  The  designer  of  to-day  often  actually  de- 
plores the  very  things  from  which  he  may  hope  to 
realize  true  style  and  character. 

We  may  assume  this  proposition  then :  The 
form  of  an  object,  together  with  its  structural  or 
functional  elements,  should  suggest  the  general 
character  and  position  of  any  enrichment  that  may 
be  developed. 

In  Figure  25  are  some  examples  of  pottery  from  the 
work  of  the  past,  selected  almost  at  random  because  the 
conditions  counting  for  effective  design  during  the  vari- 
ous periods  when  these  designs  were  produced  were  of 
the  right  sort.  Study  each  example  in  this  plate  and 
note  how  the  aesthetic  and  practical  have  developed  to- 
gether in  the  minds  of  the  designers.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  consider  each  in  detail ;  it  may  be  seen  that  there  is 
a  reason  for  each  line,  form,  and  tone  employed  ;  its 
position,  measure,  and  shape  is  determined  by  struc- 


62       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


Fig.  25. 


•■^*>% 


PLATE  8. 
Incised  Design  for  Pottery. 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING 


63 


tural  features.  In  Figure  26  is  brush-made  ornament; 
every  stroke  of  the  brush  emphasizes  the  functional 
elements  of  the 
vase  and  is  di- 
rectly related  to 
the  general  form. 
In  the  devel- 
opment of  our 
abstract  prob- 
lems two  meth- 
ods will  be 
followed, — that 
which  proceeds 
from  a  given 
whole  to  a  con- 
sideration of  de- 
tails, as  in  the 
first  problem ; 
that  which  pro- 
ceeds from  an 
adjustment  of 
details  to  a  defi- 
nition of  the 
whole.  The  end 
sought,  the  unity  of  all  elements  involved,  is  the  same 
in  both  cases.  In  the  evolution  of  a  constructive 
problem  the  first  method  would  naturally  be  followed. 


Fig.  26. 


64       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

though  it  will  probably  appear  that  one  unconsciously 
follows  both  methods  before  the  design  is  completed. 
The  position,  shape,  and  measure  of  a  detail  would  be 
determined  by  the  first  method;  but  the  building  up 
of  the  lines  and  forms  within  that  detail  might  lead  one 
to  the  second  method  or  continue  the  process  of  the 
first  method  according  to  the  nature  of  the  detail. 
Plates  8,  9  and  Figures  27,  28  illustrate  the  idea  with 
motifs  that  occur  in  two  of  our  problems.  In  Plate  8, 
incised  pottery,  the  subdivision  of  the  big  form  came 
first  with  a  dominant  interest  at  the  top  and  a  subor- 
dinate    interest 


1. 

U 

U_UL 

zx. 


jDr 


flob cJob. 


r^iim 


mr] 


/\ 

f     ^T-r/             \— .* 

7~" 

1  ^1 

HSESW 

1 — r — 

mtfi 

J 

at  the  bottom. 
The  construc- 
tion of  the  bor- 
der at  the  top 
then  proceeded  along  the 
lines  indicated  in  the  next 
problem.  In  Figure  27  are 
suggestions  showing  the  first 
steps  in  the  subdivision  of 
the  main  form  on  a  basis  of  the  functional  elements. 
The  form,  of  leather,  has  two  elements,  cover  and  bag. 
These  must  be  designed  in  such  way  that  they  count 
for  unity  when  seen  as  one,  with  the  cover  buttoned 
into  position  ;  they  should  also  be  so  planned  that  each 
will  be  complete  in  itself,  when  the  cover  is  opened. 


Fig.  27. 


.J^lb^^ 


PLATE  9. 
Constructive  Arrangements  of  Line  and  Form  for  Leather. 


CONSTRUCTIVE  DESIGNING 


65 


The  handle  and  buttons  are  structural  features  that 
must  be  accepted,  not  ignored ;  they  furnish  at  once 
the  clews  for  the  main  subdivisions  of  form.  In  Plate 
9  and  Figure  28  are  other  constructive  designs  built 
up  in  a  similar  way.  They  should,  of  course,  be  seen 
in  the  leather  with  tooling,  texture,  and  color,  to  form 


Fig.  28. 


an  adequate  judgment  of  the  results.  On  paper  they 
are  merely  organic,  constructive  arrangements  of  lines 
and  forms  in  space  and  mass,  planned  for  a  technique 
peculiar  to  simple  processes  of  leather  tooling.  They 
are  not  "  applied  designs ''  in  the  usual  acceptance  of 
that  term ;  each  is  a  "  built  in  "  design  on  a  basis  of 
structural  elements.     Note  in  each  the  dominant  and 


66       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

subordinate  interests  and  the  concentration  of  the  terms 
employed. 

In  the  completion  of  the  details  another  thought 
occurs  that  takes  us  back  to  the  reasons  why  abstract 
design  may  be  studied  with  profit.  While  the  general 
form  and  structural  elements  may  suggest  a  clew  for 
the  position  and  character  of  the  enrichment,  the 
strength  and  interest  of  that  enrichment  will  be  no 
greater  than  the  measure  of  artistic  invention  possessed 
by  the  designer.  We  are  often  told  to  "  ornament  con- 
struction ;  do  not  construct  ornament."  The  intent 
of  the  phrase  is  doubtless  right  and  accords  with  the 
content  of  this  chapter ;  but  it  is  only  a  half  truth  after 
all.  We  must  have  wit,  imagination,  invention  to 
devise  ornament  worthy  of  the  position  it  occupies. 
The  design  as  a  whole  will  clearly  guage  the  personal- 
ity of  the  designer.  Confronted  by  the  question  of 
enrichment  he  may  be  at  complete  loss  for  a  motif,  a 
thought,  that  will  give  that  enrichment  distinction. 
Or,  having  a  motif,  his  invention  may  be  of  a  dull 
sort  that  fails  to  make  the  best  use  of  his  motif.  It  is 
one  of  the  purposes  of  the  problems  in  this  book  to 
strengthen  the  inventive  faculty,  to  give  it  exercise, 
to  demonstrate  the  fact  that  the  beauty  of  abstract 
design  is  dependent  on  constructive  principles  quite 
as  much  as  concrete  design.  In  the  application  of 
these  aesthetic  principles  to  practical  problems  we  may 


>m^ 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING  67 

hope  to  ornament  construction  with  thoughtfully  con- 
structed  ornament. 

The  mosaics  in  the  church  of  San  Marco,  Venice, 
furnish  an  interesting  study  of  the  rise  and  de- 
cline of  constructive  designing.  This  old  church 
offers  a  rare  opportunity  for  the  comparative  study 
of  mosaic  work  from  the  ninth  century  to  the  present 
day.  Plate  10  shows  one  of  the  early  Byzantine 
mosaics.  Plate  1 1  is  the  work  of  the  brothers  Zucato 
from  the  sixteenth  century.  The  first  illustrates  the 
beauty  of  construction ;  its  design  in  line,  form,  and 
tone  is  in  structural  unity  with  its  architectural  environ- 
ment ;  it  is  organically  related  to  the  constructive  lines 
and  forms  about  it.  The  second  represents  the  con- 
struction of  beauty;  it  is  the  work  of  men  who  accepted 
their  commission  as  an  opportunity  to  display  their 
ability  as  painters ;  it  is  a  picture  within  a  half  circle  ; 
its  beauty  is  of  a  character  quite  independent  from  the 
structural  features  of  the  church.  To  understand  the 
first  it  must  be  seen  in  the  space  which  it  occupies; 
the  second  can  be  quite  as  well  understood  when  it  is 
isolated  from  its  surroundings.  The  ingenious  brothers 
Zucato  even  ignored  the  limitations  of  their  material 
and  employed  the  brush  to  acquire  gradations  of  tone 
in  their  picture  which  a  legitimate  use  of  mosaic  did 
not  allow. 

Illustrations  might  be  multiplied  from  every  line  of 


68       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND  PRACTICE 

industrial  activity.  As  shop-trained  men  ceased  to 
be  designers  the  structural  fitness  of  the  work  de- 
creased and  the  peculiar  character  that  came  from  an 
intimate  knowledge  of  practical  principles  gradually 
disappeared. 

In  the  evolution  of  a  Gothic  cathedral  from  the 
early  chapels  is  a  most  impressive  object  lesson  in  the 
coordination  of  the  practical  and  the  aesthetic.  The 
unique  character  of  these  structures  would  never  have 
been  possible  if  the  builders  had  not  frankly  accepted 
the  constructive  clews  that  appeared  and  turned  them 
all  to  aesthetic  account.  They  were  not  conscious  of 
any  distinction  between  building  and  architecture ; 
the  one  merged  into  the  other  as  naturally  as  a  root 
sends  forth  and  provides  nourishment  for  the  flower. 
In  the  final  expression  of  the  Gothic  idea  we  find  a 
structure  in  which  every  feature,  one  might  say  every 
stone,  performs,  or  did  perform  at  some  stage  in  the 
development  of  the  style,  a  functional  purpose.  The 
cathedral  is  a  living  organism,  vital  in  every  line  and 
form,  a  nice  adjustment  of  thrusts,  counter  thrusts,  and 
weights,  in  which  each  detail,  from  the  carved  pinnacles 
to  the  traceried  windows,  may  be  followed  back  to  a 
constructive  origin.  Those  flying  buttresses  (Figure 
29)  which  give  unique  character  to  the  exterior  started 
as  strengthening  pilasters,  were,  through  gradual  evo- 
lution, pushed  above  the  roof  of  the  aisles  to  those 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING 


69 


remarkable  systems  found  in  such  churches  as  Amiens, 
RheimSj  etc.  The  window  openings,  starting  from  a 
need  for  subdivision,  gradually  extended  into  the 
wonderful  tracery  of  the  later  years ;  and  with  the 
builders  came  the  glass  workers,  growing  in  strength 
and  power  as 
designers  with 
their  growth  of 
opportunities. 
In  the  cathe- 
dral as  it  finally 
appeared  we 
find  those  fac- 
tors so  essential 
to  vital  creative 
work:  a  real 
need,  a  thought 
to  express,  a 
consummate 
command  of  the  practical  principles  of  construction, 
and  an  aesthetic  sense  which  enabled  the  builders  to 
make  the  most  of  every  clew  that  was  offered. 

A  similar  spirit  may  be  followed  like  a  golden  thread 
woven  into  the  product  of  all  the  mediaeval  craftsmen. 
It  is  true  that  throughout  Gothic  craftswork  may  be 
found  forms  devised  by  the  builders  but  freely  em- 
ployed by  other  workers  more  for  sake  of  enrichment 


Fig.  29. 


70      DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


Fig.  30. 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING 


71 


than  function.     In  Figure  30  the  carver  has  borrowed 

an  idea  from  the  stone  masons  of  the  cathedral  in  his 

traceried  forms,     A  detail  of 

this  work  (Figure  31)  shows 

the   grouping    of  pier    bases 

such   as    may    be    found    at 

Rouen.       The    locksmith    in 

Figure  32  has  chiseled  in  iron 

similar  forms  of  architectural 

derivation. 

Back  of  these  traceries  bits 
of  bright  silk  or  velvet  were 
generally  placed,  suggested  no 
doubt  by  the  glass  of  the 
church  windows.  Other  va- 
riations of  tracery  occur  in 
the  keys  of  Figure  ^^,  In 
one    key    two    tiny   windows  fig.  31. 

have  been  pierced.  But  if  this  man  borrowed,  he  also 
gave  something  in  return.  They  worked  hand  in  hand, 
those  old  craftsmen,  always  to  something  better  and 
finer.  In  Figure  34  is  another  instance  in  which  forms 
peculiarly  functional  have  been  employed  for  enrich- 
ment. It  is  this  which  gives  to  that  period  of  work 
the  unique  distinction  which  we  designate  a  "  style,"  — 
varied  interpretations  of  a  similar  thought.  Under  the 
conditions  which  led  to  that  work  cooperation  was  the 


72      DESIGN   IN  THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


Fig.  32. 

those  forms  has  long  since 
passed  away ;  the  principles 
alone  remain  vital.  It  is 
not  in  imitation  of  those 
forms,  however  skillfully 
achieved,  that  we  may  hope  to 
give  character  to  twentieth- 
century   work. 

The  message  of  the  past 
is  of  principles,  not  of 
"  periods."  In  following  its 
principles  we,  too,  may  create 
something  expressive  of  our 
lives,  our  needs,  our  environ- 
ments.    But  in  a  superficial 


keynote  rather 
than  individu- 
ality ;  the  per- 
sistence  of 
forms  in  con- 
struction and 
ornament  was 
a  logical  se- 
quence. But 
the  thought 
which    led  to 


Fig.  33. 


CONSTRUCTIVE   DESIGNING 


73 


adaptation  of  its  outward 
forms  we  have  a  crust, 
but  no  pie.  To-day  we 
are  continually  haunted 
by  the  characterless  sem- 
blance of  things  which 
we  have  loved  in  the 
original,  because  in  our 
study  of  the  originals  we 
found  ourselves  living 
again  in  the  past  with 
those  old  craftsmen  who 
lingered  over  the  last  de- 
tails of  their  work  with  a 
sincerity  of  purpose  that 
imparted  real  worth  and 
human  interest  to  the 
product. 


^mrw 


Fig.  34 


CHAPTER  V 

Materials 

**  Primitive  art  offers  the  best  possible  facilities  for  the 
study  of  the  fiindamental  principles  of  aesthetic  develop- 
ment."—  William  H.   Holmes. 

THE  simplest  type  of  designing  is  that  in  which 
the  worker  is  concerned  with  assembling  and 
giving  orderly  disposition  to  materials  in- 
herently interesting  or  beautiful.  Of  such  type  are 
the  two  necklaces  in  Figure  35.  In  the  first  example 
a  cachelot  tooth  has  been  chosen  ;  possibly  it  possesses 
some  fancied  charm  to  the  wearer;  but  it  is  material 
ready  at  hand,  provided  by  Nature,  with  a  minimum 
of  skill  or  invention  in  the  way  of  preparation.  As- 
sembled with  this  central  piece  are  shell  disks,  black, 
white,  and  red  in  color,  all  strung  on  braided  strands 
of  light  and  dark  brown  vegetable  fiber. 

The  second  necklace  is  composed  of  shell  sections, 
light  in  color,  graded  in  size.  Into  the  crevices  of 
each  shell  section  some  dark  substance  has  been  rubbed 
of  a  tone  similar  to  the  brown  fiber  to  which  the  shells 
are  bound;  and  on  the  inner  circle  is  a  row  of  teeth,  with 
holes  drilled  in  them,  one  tooth  overlapping  another. 

74 


MATERIALS 


75 


Both  of  these  are  very  beautiful  indeed,  —  in  the 
pearly  white  of  the  shells,  the  rare,  creamy  tone  of  the 
teeth,  the  rich  browns  of  the  fiber,  and,  in  the  first. 


Fig.  35. 


the  contrasting  touches  of  black  and  the  coral-like  red. 
To  Nature  the  beauty  of  materials ;  to  the  designer  a 
discriminating   selection,   and   a    composition    of  the 


76       DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

materials  to  the  utmost  advantage.  The  results  are 
infinitely  more  beautiful  than  many  of  the  modern, 
mechanically  spaced  strings  of  pearls  or  diamonds 
having  little  claim  for  distinction  beyond  the  intrinsic 
value  of  the  materials  employed.  There  is  a  vast  dif- 
ference between  intrinsic  value  and  inherent  beauty. 
The  commercial  jeweler  of  to-day  seeks  materials  of  the 
greatest  intrinsic  value,  brings  mechanical  skill  to  bear 
upon  them,  and  may  generally  be  counted  upon  to  rob 
the  materials  of  any  inherent  beauty  which  they  may 
have  possessed.  A  man  with  less  skill  but  more  taste 
may  seize  upon  a  beach  pebble  and  a  scrap  of  copper 
and  so  utilize  their  inherent  beauty  as  to  produce  a 
design  of  true  artistic  excellence,  though  of  little  in- 
trinsic value. 

But  it  is  plain  that  the  two  necklaces  here  shown 
involve  a  narrow  margin  of  artistic  invention.  The 
instinctive  feeling  that  chose  and  arranged  this  material 
is  often  quickly  shaken  at  the  sight  of  a  few  tawdry 
glass  beads  or  a  yard  or  two  of  cheap  calico.  Primitive 
man,  left  to  his  own  devices,  produces  work  of  artistic 
merit ;  his  materials  and  appliances  are  few  and  simple 
and  his  instinct  leads  him  to  an  appropriate  use  of 
them. 

In  Figure  2^  are  five  unique  hairpins  of  primitive 
workmanship.  The  first,  like  the  two  necklaces,  rep- 
resents a  happy  choice  of  material.     A  bone,  nicely 


^ 


MATERIALS 


11 


adapted  to  its  purpose,  has  been  shaped  into  service- 
able form,  carefully  rubbed  and  polished  to  display 
the  material  to  the  best  advantage.     The  second  and 


N?w  Ouiae&      Solomon Isl&ttds'Cb^roUaelsI&nisT   £>uc>au&k  Celtic* 


@ 


Fig.  36. 

third  represent  combinations  of  simple  materials,  fine 
feeling,  and  excellent  workmanship.  The  second  is 
as  charming  a  piece  of  craft  work  as  one  might  hope 
to  find,  exquisite,  refined  in  every  part.  One  may  see 
how  a  slightly  bent  bamboo  sprout  has  been  cut  to  the 
center  and  then  split  to  the  bottom,  the  top  whittled 


78       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

to  the  shape  of  a  square  with  a  little  knob,  and  with 
slightly  cut  ornament  at  the  end.  The  lower  part  of 
the  top  is  neatly  wound  with  yellow  straw,  the  upper 
part  with  red  straw.  In  the  third,  shell  disks  of  two 
colors  have  been  pushed  over  a  spindle  left  on  the  end 
of  the  hairpin,  the  whole  being  carefully  polished. 
The  fourth  pin  is  perhaps  no  more  interesting  or  im- 
portant than  the  others,  but  it  involves  designing  of  a 
somewhat  different  character.  It  is  a  single  pin  of 
bamboo  ;  but  the  pattern  scratched  about  the  top  is  a 
bit  of  pure  invention ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  material 
to  suggest  it,  as  in  the  other  three.  The  cylindrical 
form  of  the  bamboo  would  naturally  suggest  a  banded 
treatment ;  but  there  is  no  clew  here  in  the  material  to 
the  pattern  itself.  In  the  fifth  pin  we  advance  beyond 
any  of  the  others  to  a  point  where  all  the  credit  belongs 
to  the  worker.  The  material  was  in  the  form  of  an  un- 
suggestive  and  unlovely  chunk  of  bronze,  furnishing 
not  the  slightest  clew  to  the  product  as  we  see  it. 
Here  then,  assuredly,  is  designing  of  the  highest  order, 
in  which  the  worker  fashions  materials  to  conform  to 
his  own  needs  and  ideas,  the  beauty  dependent  upon 
thoughtful  design,  fine  craftsmanship,  and  an  intimate 
sympathy  with  and  understanding  of  the  materials 
that  will  give  to  the  result  a  character  peculiar  to  bronze. 
Following  the  same  thought  of  these  pins,  study  the 
combs  in  Figure  37,  a  development  through  all  the 


MATERIALS 


79 


WsV  Afr?c*.  •Cfcrved  Herd  Wood 


FIG.  37. 


8o       DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

stages  from  simple,  aesthetic  use  of  materials  ready-made 
to  the  skillful  expression  of  an  idea  in  the  materials 
selected. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  a  serious  study  of  primitive 
art  is  left  very  generally  to  the  archaeologist.  To 
many  students  of  design  this  vast,  intensely  interesting 
field  is  unexplored.  Racinet,  in  his  laborious  "  Grammar 
of  Ornament,"  defines  primitive  work  as  "  anterior  to 
rules  of  art,"  and  devotes  a  single  page  of  ill-chosen 
and  mechanically  rendered  fragments  to  its  elucidation. 
One  should  be  thankful  that  there  still  remains  open 
for  study  a  field  that  is  anterior  to  "  rules  of  art."  In 
the  study  of  Historic  Ornament  it  is  usual  to  take  a 
first  deep  plunge  into  Egypt,  and  emerge  with  the 
idea  that  the  beginnings  of  art  are  somewhere  away 
back  in  distant  ages  and  of  minor  interest. 

On  the  contrary,  the  story  of  primitive  art  is  one  of 
absorbing  interest  and  much  profit  for  the  beginner. 
And  why  go  so  far  afield  ?  Here  close  beside  us  and 
within  reach  of  all  is  the  remarkable  art  of  a  people 
who  have  just  left  the  stone  age  behind  them  ;  an  art 
almost  contemporary  with  our  own  times,  indigenous 
to  a  soil  and  climate  which  we  know.  Through  our 
own  National  Museum  and  its  invaluable  publications, 
to  be  found  in  any  library,  the  student  has  access  to  a 
most  important  period  of  work.  Here  may  be  found 
the  art  of  people  who  were  unhampered  by  conflicting 


MATERIALS  8l 

traditions,  whose  natures  demanded  beauty  in  all  ob- 
jects of  daily  use ;  and  if  this  is  not  "  fine  art "  in  the 
best  sense  of  the  term,  how  indeed  may  it  be  defined  ? 
The  work  of  more  advanced  civilizations  may  offer  a 
wider  range  of  invention,  finer  distinctions  in  line, 
form,  and  tone  than  the  work  of  primitive  man ;  but 
certainly  no  more  evidence  of  the  spontaneous  develop- 
ment necessary  to  the  very  life  of  art. 

We  know  too  much  to  be  true,  and  simple,  and 
spontaneous  in  our  own  work.  We  are  burdened  with 
too  many  conflicting  traditions  and  precedents.  In 
this  day  of  inexpensive  casts,  pictures,  and  photo- 
graphs we  find  the  world's  work  spread  out  before 
us.  We  select  for  purposes  of  study  those  things 
that  are  far  beyond  us  in  the  terms  of  our  own  ex- 
perience. We  are  induced  to  imitate  and  copy  those 
things  because  of  their  manifest  superiority  over  our 
own  immature  efforts.  We  are  impatient  of  time,  and 
study,  and  experiment.  If  we  are  workers  in  wood,  or 
metal,  or  what  not,  we  find  it  easy  to  achieve  a  logical 
solution  of  the  constructive  demands  of  a  problem,  but 
difficult  to  complete  it  with  appropriate  refinement  and 
enrichment ;  we  have  no  ideas  to  express,  so  bring 
forth  a  formidable  array  of  arguments  to  prove  that 
there  never  was  such  a  thing  as  originality  in  design ; 
and  in  the  meantime  complacently  appropriate  the 
work  of  others  to  our  own  ends. 


82       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

Primitive  art  comes  as  a  refreshing  breeze.  Here 
were  people  with  real  needs  to  meet  with  such  beauty 
as  they  could  devise.  They  gathered,  perforce,  their 
own  materials  from  the  mountain  slopes  and  the  river 
bottoms,  made  with  their  own  hands  all  the  tools,  and 
wrought  a  product  simple  and  honest  in  construction, 
strong  and  insistent  in  its  grasp  of  fundamentals.  The 
work  of  primitive  man  comes  from  his  heart ;  from 
his  nature  rather  than  from  his  knowledge.  He  de- 
signed beautifully  because  he  could  not  help  it,  and 
the  step  from  his  idea  to  its  vigorous  execution  is  so 
simple  that  it  can  be  readily  studied.  In  all  justice 
the  feminine  pronoun  should  be  used  in  a  description 
of  Figure  38  ;  but  to  simplify  matters  let  us  allow 
man  to  shine  with  reflected  glory  ! 

The  questions  of  tools,  materials,  and  processes  are 
reduced  to  their  simplest  elements ;  we  may  trace  the 
experiments  and  influences  from  one  material  or  pro- 
cess to  another.  In  our  Southwest,  gourds  were  com- 
mon in  many  sections,  and  were  used  as  utensils  for 
various  purposes.  For  convenience  in  carrying  the 
gourd,  and  possibly  for  protection,  a  coarse  weave  of 
wickerwork  was  made  about  it.  There  is  good  rea- 
son to  believe  that  this  suggested  the  weaving  of 
baskets,  merely  by  increasing  the  strands  of  the  wicker 
covering.  A  wicker  basket  lined  with  pitch  or  clay 
was  more  durable  than  a  gourd;    it  also  demanded 


MATERIALS 


83 


mmmmummmmM 


.)tf5H 


^Si^}tmm 


m 


From  Reports  of  tbrDur^duof 
Rhnolq^y,e.nii  D^5cription^  by 
holmes  bJi±  Cu3hinp 


Fig.  38. 


84       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

greater  strength  than  is  possible  with  the  loose  weaving 
of  a  wicker  framework.  As  basketry  came  into  wider 
practice  other  utensils  were  made,  and  the  materials 
and  processes  involved  in  the  craft  underwent  a  de- 
velopment on  their  own  merits.  Strands  were  bound 
together  in  coils  to  give  greater  strength ;  baskets  were 
made  for  boihng  water,  after  the  primitive  method  ; 
for  parching  pans,  and  for  other  domestic  uses.  Now 
the  parching  pan  was  lined  with  clay,  as  were  also  the 
cooking  and  boiling  baskets,  to  protect  the  basket  from 
the  charcoal.  Naturally  the  heat  baked  the  clay, 
shrinking  it  into  a  form  similar  to  the  basket.  A  clay 
pan  was  an  obvious  suggestion.  Here  was  a  new  ma- 
terial with  new  possibilities  to  be  studied.  But  while 
clay  may  be  pressed  into  the  shallow  parching  pan 
and  then  fired,  it  is  apparent  that  forms  for  boiling  or 
carrying  water  cannot  be  made  in  the  same  way  with- 
out destroying  a  good  basket  for  each  piece  of  pottery 
made.  Knowing  no  better  way,  the  primitive  worker 
employed  the  same  process  of  coiling  developed 
through  basketry,  even  using  a  basket  at  the  start 
for  shaping  the  bottom  of  the  clay  vessel.  He  is  ever 
slow  to  abandon  old  materials  and  methods.  The  first 
pottery  was  rough  and  partook,  not  only  in  form  but 
in  texture,  of  the  antecedent  baskets.  In  the  course 
of  time  a  slip  was  devised  which  gave  a  smoother  tex- 
ture to   the  pottery ;    and  "with  this   new  texture  the 


MATERIALS  85 

basket  character  decreased.  Here  was  a  different  kind 
of  surface  to  be  treated.  In  the  meantime  there  was 
developing  through  basketry  a  variety  of  weaves  and  a 
highly  organized  system  of  geometric  ornament.  With 
the  dyes  employed  in  basket  making,  the  first  of  the 
smooth  vessels  were  painted;  and  for  motifs  the  artist 
naturally  turned  to  the  geometric  ornament  of  weaving, 
for  there,  through  hard-earned  experience,  he  felt  on 
safe  ground.  One  of  the  dyes  stood  the  test  of  the  fire 
and  thus  became  the  standard.  Gradually  the  severe 
geometric  ornament  of  weaving  underwent  modifications 
during  the  translation  with  new  tools,  materials,  and 
processes ;  angles  were  softened,  curves  appeared  ;  yet 
throughout  the  periods  of  the  best  pottery  the  lessons 
so  well  learned  in  weaving  were  never  quite  lost  from 
sight.  And  so  the  story  continues,  always  interesting, 
always  instructive,  proceeding  along  the  lines  of  least 
resistance,  clear  and  spontaneous  at  all  times.  Space 
does  not  permit  us  to  follow  it  to  a  conclusion ;  but  it 
is  hoped  that  enough  has  been  said  to  induce  the  reader 
to  seek  at  first  hand,  from  those  who  are  able  to  speak 
with  authority,  the  story  of  primitive  art.^ 

The  technique  of  weaving  and  basketry  inevitably 
gave  rise  to  a  geometric  ornament.  The  growth  of 
pattern  was  slow,  because  primitive  man,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  was  a  conservative  designer  in  spite  of 

1  Reports  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology. 


86       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

the  vigor  of  his  utterance.  From  one  generation  to 
another  the  simple  patterns  were  passed,  with  gradual 
changes  tending  toward  a  more  complete  expression. 
We  cannot  appreciate  the  completeness  of  the  result 
until  we  sit  down  to  a  careful  examination  of  an  Indian 
basket ;  count  out  the  strands  of  the  pattern  and  note 
how  difficult  the  task  becomes. 

Into  these  patterns  there  entered  at  an  early  stage  a 
fresh  element  of  interest.  The  primitive  man  looked 
out  upon  the  world  through  the  eyes  of  a  child.  Science 
had  not  robbed  him  of  his  fairyland ;  the  forces  of 
Nature,  from  the  forked  lightning  to  the  blade  of 
grass  pushing  upward  with  the  new  rains,  were  explained 
only  in  the  lore  of  his  mythology.  His  gods  of  the 
wind,  the  rain,  and  the  sun  were  real  deities  to  propitiate. 
He  lived  close  to  the  heart  of  Nature.  And,  as  the  hand 
serves  the  mind,  there  inevitably  appeared  in  his  work 
earnest  efforts  to  interpret  the  natural  phenomena  about 
him,  developing  in  time  a  rich  symbolism  which  we 
can  only  in  part  understand  or  translate. 

His  pictorial  art,  like  his  designs,  strikes  out  boldly 
for  essentials,  for  lines  expressing  movement,  action,  life. 
He  was  more  intent  on  recording  impressions  than  in 
nice  distinctions  of  texture,  color,  light,  and  shade. 
He  was  the  first  of  the  "  impressionists."  He  even 
recorded  his  ideas  through  pictographs  in  lieu  of  a 
written  language. 


MATERIALS 


87 


There  entered,  then,  into  the  technique  of  his  weav- 
ing certain  nature-derived  elements,  often  arbitrary 
and  unreal.  Sometimes  we  recognize  the  motif  as 
nature-derived  ;  again  it  requires  the  ingenious  logic  of 
an  archaeologist  to  assure  us.  The  interplay  between 
the  two  is  so  intimate  that  it  cannot  be  said  positively : 


After  WhHolmes 


Fig.  39. 

This  started  in  technique  ;  this  in  Nature.  A  whimsical 
twist  in  a  line  may  have  furnished  a  suggestion  suffi- 
cient to  send  a  given  pattern  toward  Nature ;  or  again 
the  designer  may  have  done  the  best  he  could  for 
Nature  under  the  circumstances.  The  point  is  il- 
lustrated in    Figure  39.     Is    the    development    from 


88       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

I  to  8  ;  or  from  8  to  i  ;  or  from  the  extremes  to  the 
center  ? 

There  is  a  remarkable  similarity  of  development  in 
the  arts  of  primitive  peoples,  separated  though  they 
may  be  by  thousands  of  years  in  point  of  time. 
Primitive  needs  were  much  the  same  and  were  met 
with  similar  materials  and  processes,  flint  clipping, 
weaving,  pottery,  etc.,  each  developing  in  due  season. 
From  one  art  to  another  we  may  trace  a  similar  over- 
lapping of  materials  and  forms,  whether  in  ancient 
Greece  or  in  Arizona.  The  early  clay  vessels  of  the 
Iroquois  Indians  show  the  influence  of  birch  bark 
forms.  If  the  Alaskan  Indians  had  chanced  upon  the 
making  of  clay  vessels,  we  may  be  sure  their  first  efforts 
would  have  been  influenced  by  the  wooden  forms  in 
ordinary  use  among  them. 

The  persistence  of  forms  from  one  material  to  an- 
other may  be  traced  throughout  the  history  of  art  as 
well  as  among  primitive  workers.  We  know  that 
conch  shells  were  in  use  for  lamps  in  early  Babylon,  — 
because  the  first  stone  lamps  were  cut  in  that  form. 
The  Lyceans,  in  their  tombs,  laboriously  cut  from  the 
solid  rock  a  form  of  timber  construction  in  common 
use ;  and  the  influence  of  timber  construction  un- 
doubtedly survives  in  many  of  the  forms  and  some  of 
the  ornament  of  the  Parthenon.  Gothic  work,  as  we 
have  seen,  is  full  of  translations  of  form  /rom   one 


MATERIALS  89 

material  to  another.  The  first  silk  weavers  of  Florence 
imitated  the  designs  of  the  tiled  floor  in  the  Baptistry 
until  they  found  assurance  in  their  material  and  its 
processes.  Many  other  illustrations  might  be  cited ;  but 
one  point  must  not  be  overlooked, — all  of  these  in- 
stances came  at  times  when  art  was  a  growing  organism, 
and  were  the  results  of  an  intimate  cooperation  among 
many  workers.  It  was  what  may  be  called  a  process  of 
unconscious  imitation.  It  offers  no  excuse  for  the  de- 
liberate, thoughtless  imitation  of  cut  stone  with  cast 
cement  so  prevalent  in  building  construction  to-day,  or 
the  molding  of  plaster  forms  grained  to  imitate  wood 
carving.  These  indicate  a  thoughtless  disregard  of 
material,  or  a  sham  and  pretense  for  sake  of  cheapness. 
The  designer  should  learn  to  think  in  terms  of  the 
materials  he  wishes  to  use.  Lack  of  knowledge  of  the 
limitations  and  possibilities  of  materials,  of  the  peculiar 
charms  inherent  in  wood  or  stone,  iron  or  glass, 
accounts  for  much  of  the  characterless  work  of  to-day. 
In  such  jewelry  as  that  shown  in  Figure  40  there  is 
the  rare  beauty  that  ever  distinguishes  the  work  of 
men  who  have  learned  to  play  with  their  materials, 
who  have  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  metal,  shell, 
coral,  ivory,  etc.,  and  a  sense  of  beauty  that  seeks  to 
preserve  the  unique  qualities  of  each  and  display  them 
to  the  best  advantage.  Such  things  can  never  be 
thought  out  by  the  paper-trained  designer  who  has,  at 


90      DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND    PRACTICE 


LoTOba^rdy 


O'erma^uy 


^^ 


<s>j 


':^^^. 


IndiA. 


# 


99 


r-^^      / 


Fig,  40, 


MATERIALS 


91 


the  best,  a  theoretic  knowledge  of  materials,  tools,  and 
processes.  A  man  who  has  carved  in  wood  will  find  a 
broad  field  of  suggestion  in  the  twist  and  turn  of  the 


Fig.  41. 


grain,  the  texture,  the  finish,  the  handling  of  the  tools, 
— in  fact  the  very  things  that  distinguish  wood  carving 
from  stone  carving.  In  the  two  scraps  of  leaded  glass 
in    Figures   41,    42    we    may    note    how    the    frank 


92       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

acceptance  of  materials  gives    character  to    the  first; 
while  in  the  second  the  designer  ignored,  or  sought  to 


Fig.  42. 

avoid,  the  limitations  of  lead  and  glass,  with  a  conse- 
quent loss  of  force  and  strength. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  much  of  the  work  of 
the  past  was  thought  out  directly  in  the  materials 
themselves.    But  there  is  no  reason  why  a  man  should 


MATERIALS  93 

not  do  much  of  his  thinking  on  paper.  The  term 
'paper-made  design  is  a  reproach  only  to  the  man  who 
possesses  no  intimate  knowledge  of  his  materials  and 
necessarily  loses  thereby  the  very  quality  which  counts 
so  much  for  character  and  style.  There  are  possibilities 
in  the  materials  which  find  no  response  in  his  work. 

Problem.  From  Figure  39  there  is  this  to  be 
gained  of  immediate  application  to  the  present  prob- 
lem :  however  much  of  interest  there  may  be  in 
primitive  man's  pictographs,  the  value  of  his  design 
increases  as  it  approaches  the  geometric.  Whatever 
the  motif  employed  may  be,  it  is  the  relation  of  lines 
and  forms  that  furnishes  bones,  giving  character, 
strength,  vigor  to  the  work. 

You  were  asked,  "  What  do  you  expect  Nature  to 
do  for  you  ? "  Just  this :  she  may  clothe  your 
work  with  fresh  Hfe  and  interest,  for  the  mind  may 
well  tire  of  abstract  lines  and  forms,  however  thought- 
fully composed ;  but  you  must  furnish  the  bones ; 
and  if  the  bony  structure  is  weak  or  poorly  jointed. 
Nature  cannot  hide  the  fault.  Nature  may  stir  one's 
ideas  and  suggest  motifs  and  forms ;  indeed,  geometry 
supplies  poor  nourishment  as  a  long-continued  diet  for 
the  imagination  to  work  upon.  But  Nature  insists 
that  the  organic  structure  of  the  design  shall  come 
from  the  designer ;  failing  there,  from  lack  of  skill  or 
understanding,  the  result  fails  as  a  design. 


94       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

Let  us  now  bring  to  the  "  bones  "  of  the  previous 
problems  a  fresh  element  of  interest,  working  toward 
rather  than  from  Nature.  Insect  life  offers  a  sugges- 
tive and,  at  this  stage,  a  comparatively  safe  motif  For 
our  purpose  the  insect  is  a  mere  symbol  characterized 
by  lines  and  areas  combined.  It  is  not  the  intention 
to  "  conventionalize  "  any  particular  insect ;  the  sug- 
gestion of  Nature  is  merely  a  bit  of  fancy  woven  into 
the  fabric  of  the  design.  Hence  we  may  treat  the  in- 
sect with  considerable  liberty  in  the  construction  of  the 
design.  The  closer  Nature  is  brought  to  the  abstract 
the  less  essential  it  is  to  keep  to  any  particular,  recog- 
nized form ;  as  the  abstract  character  of  a  design 
decreases  consistency  demands  a  correspondingly  closer 
study  of  and  adherence  to  Nature's  laws  of  growth, 
and  a  recognition  of  the  distinctive  characteristics  of 
special  forms.  Nothing  could  be  more  stupid  than  the 
mere  repetition  at  regular  intervals  of  a  naturalistic 
insect. 

Think  of  the  designs  in  Figure  43,  as  well  as  in  the 
following  plates,  from  a  broad  view  point  first.  Study 
them  as  wholes,  as  compositions  of  space  and  mass ; 
then  descend  gradually  to  details  in  order  to  find  what 
it  is  that  binds  the  results  together  into  unity.  Ana- 
lyze the  structural  arrangement  of  the  lines  and  forms  ; 
if  an  attempt  is  made  to  change  a  line  or  a  form,  it  is 
soon  found  that  it  bears  some  relation  to  other  lines 


MATERIALS 


95 


Fig.  43. 


and  forms  ;  they  all  work  together  like  a  good  team  of 
horses.  It  is  this  how  and  why  of  each  element  in  a 
design  that  should  interest  us  as  students. 


96       DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


This  interrelation  of  the  elements  of  a  pattern  has 
been  defined  as  Rhythm,  —  that  reciprocal  relation  of 
the  different  parts  of  a  design  which  enables  the  eye 
to  find  a  way  through  all  of  its  details,  binding  them 
together  into  a  unity. 

In  Figure  44,  i  the  regular  repetition  of  an  unique" 
shape  carries  the  eye  through  the  pattern  like  the  beat 

of  a  drum  in  a 
march.  The 
parallel  lines  in  2 
strengthen  and 
support  the 
movement ;  there 
is  nothing  in  the 
result  to  give 
direction  to 
the  movement, 
though  the  eye, 
presumably  from 
force  of  habit  in 
reading,  seems 
naturally  to  move 
from  left  to  right.  In  3  a  slight  element  of  variety  is 
introduced  without  breaking  the  essential  regularity  of 
repeat.  In  4  the  element  of  variety  is  increased,  in 
space  and  niass  and  in  the  directions  of  lines ;  but  not 
at  the  expense  of  unity,  —  it  is  still  bound  together  as 


Fig.  44. 


MATERIALS  97 

an  organic  whole.  As  an  illustration  of  a  still  closer 
binding  together  of  the  elements  5  is  added.  Here  the 
white,  or  space,  hooks  into  the  black,  or  mass,  if  it  may 
be  explained  through  such  a  picturesque  phrase.  Now 
to  this  simple  demonstration  it  is  the  purpose  to  add 
such  interest  as  the  statement  of  our  problem  has  al- 
ready indicated.  In  6  are  suggestions  for  a  start ; 
carried  further  in  7.  In  8  the  structural  relations  of 
line  and  form,  space  and  mass  are  readily  seen ;  note 
the  value  in  this  result  of  the  two  little  white  spaces ; 
note  also  the  import3.nce  of  concentration.  It  is  prac- 
tically a  design  in  three  tones,  —  black,  white,  gray. 

It  has  been  said  that  there  is  no  special  virtue 
attached  to  the  mere  repetition  of  a  unit  at  regular  in- 
tervals, however  interesting  and  complete  the  unit  may 
be  in  itself.  In  9  is  a  symmetry  of  shapes  ;  in  a  regu- 
lar repetition  of  this  symmetry,  as  in  10,  it  is  found 
that  another  symmetry  appears  in  the  design  and  must 
be  accepted  as  a  playmate  whether  we  wish  it  or  not. 
In  the  present  case  this  second  symmetry  has  the 
greater  attractive  force,  and  we  find  our  interest  imme- 
diately transferred  from  the  mass  to  the  space.  It  is 
now  the  playmate  that  sets  the  pace,  and  furnishes  a 
clew  to  the  completion  of  the  design  in  such  way  that 
all  the  elements  may  take  part  in  the  game.  Having 
some  such  motif  as  is  shown  in  7,  the  interval  <5f  repeat 
would  be  sought  and   the   space  between   studied,  as 


98       DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

in  II.  This  space  may  be  given  more  interest;  but  it 
would  be  well  to  subordinate  one  or  the  other  of  the 
two  symmetries  involved.  In  constructive  problems 
the  interval  of  the  repeat  is  governed  largely  by  the 
part  the  border  might  play  in  the  design  as  a  whole  or 
the  position  it  occupies.  In  the  row  of  sculptured 
kings  on  the  fa9ade  of  Notre  Dame  in  Paris,  a  distinctly 
vertical  character  is  given  to  the  repeats  of  a  long  hori- 
zontal border,  as  in  12;  but  every  line  and  form  on  the 
fa9ade  demands  that  those  repeats  shall  fall  into  vertical 
lines.  On  the  other  hand,  if  a  border  in  which  the  lines 
fall  into  similar  relations  were  to  be  placed  upon  the  floor 
of  a  room  about  a  rug,  we  might  feel  that  a  movement 
in  the  other  direction  in  harmony  with  the  long  lines 
of  the  border  would  be  pleasanter  and  more  restful. 
As  an  abstract  question  a  comparison  may  be  made  be- 
tween the  second  and  third  examples  in  Figure  43. 
It  would  be  unwise  to  shorten  the  interval  of  repeat 
in  the  second ;  quite  as  unwise  to  lengthen  it  in  the 
third.  But  to  say  that  it  is  unwise  to  do  thus  and  so 
is  quite  different  from  saying,  "  Thou  shalt  not."  Ah  ! 
how  simple  this  would  all  be  if  one  might  formulate 
a  rule-o*-thumb  to  be  applied  upon  all  occasions  when 
in  doubt !  It  would  save  a  deal  of  worry  and  work  ! 
In  Plates  12,  13,  14,  15  are  other  constructive 
arrangements  of  lines  and  forms  built  up  in  a  way  simi- 
lar to  the  examples  we  have  just  been  discussing.     Each 


PLATE  12. 

Nature  Symbols. 


PLATE  13. 

Nature  Symbols. 


PLATE  15. 

Nature  Symbols. 


MATERIALS  99 

element  in  these  designs  has  a  reason  to  justify  its  po- 
sition, shape,  and  measure,  a  function  to  perform  as 
part  of  an  organic  whole.  Note  in  each  design  the 
way  in  which  the  details  are  bound  together  into  one- 
ness by  the  interrelation  of  lines. 


CHAPTER   VI 
Tools  and  Processes 

**  Vet,  notwithstanding  its  remarkable  expression  of  life  based 
on  Nature,  the  work  of  the  Gothic  carver  is,  as  a  rule, 
appropriately  conventionalized.  Only  those  abstract  quali- 
ties of  form  which  are  capable  of  effective  monumental  treat- 
ment are  taken  from  nature.'*  —  C.  H.  Moore. 

A  GREAT  many  of  the  interesting  patterns  devised 
by  the  workers  of  the  past  for  the  purpose  of 
enrichment  are  traceable  directly  to  the  tools 
and  processes  employed  in  execution.  A  given  tool 
suggests  to  the  tool-trained  man  a  character  of  treat- 
ment in  design  that  could  never  possibly  enter  into  the 
work  of  a  paper-trained  designer  unfamiliar  with  tech- 
nique. The  old  worker  knew  that  certain  lines  and 
forms  were  readily  produced  by  certain  tools ;  and 
through  the  combination  of  different  tools  many  of  his 
patterns  were  evolved.  These  patterns  in  turn  were 
modified  through  other  influences  or  suggested  clews 
leading  to  other  forms ;  the  immediate  effect  of  the 
tool  became  less  apparent  as  technical  skill  increased ; 
but   throughout  the   periods  when  shop-trained   men 

100 


TOOLS   AND   PROCESSES  loi 

were  designers,  the  tool  influence  remains  as  a  potent 
factor  in  the  unique  character  of  the  work. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  the  loss  that  modern  work 
has  suffered  from  the  designer's  lack  of  tool  training 
alone.  The  design  of  the  old  worker  moved  along  a 
path  through  which  his  experience  in  execution  had 
previously  cleared  a  way ;  he  unconsciously  recognized 
the  limitations  of  his  tools,  materials,  and  processes, 
and  knowing  their  limitations  he  was  in  position  to 
realize  their  possibilities  to  the  utmost.  His  thought 
in  design  was  in  terms  of  technique ;  his  ideas  often, 
one  may  say  generally,  received  direct  expression 
without  the  intermediate  step  of  paper  and  pencil.  If 
paper  and  pencil  preceded  actual  execution,  it  was 
merely  as  a  convenient  shorthand  note,  a  blocking  out 
of  big  forms  in  which  details  were  left  to  clews  fur- 
nished by  the  tools. 

In  Figure  45  is  a  simple  example  of  what  may  be 
termed  tool-wrought  ornament ;  the  worker  turned  to 


^^ 


Fig.  45. 

his  tools  for  the  clew  to  the  pattern.     Similar  in  char- 
acter is  the  carved  enrichment  of  Plate  7,  or  the  first 


102     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

spoon  in  Figure  ii.  These  are  all  patterns  suggested 
by  the  tools  themselves.  Chip  carving,  when  properly 
executed  by  those  sufficiently  endowed  with  invention 
to  make  it  interesting,  might  serve  as  an  illustration  of 
similar  work.  If  any  preliminary  studies  were  made 
for  such  designs,  they  were  doubtless  sketched  directly 
upon  the  material  and  an  immediate  execution  started 
with  the  tools.  The  cut-glass  worker  of  to-day  follows 
a  similar  method.  The  design  may  consist  of  a  few 
broad  red  lines  painted  on  the  glass  to  indicate  the  spac- 
ing, but  quite  unintelligible  to  one  unfamiliar  with  the 
processes  of  production.  To  the  worker,  with  his  vari- 
ous-shaped wheels  of  emery,  the  lines  have  a  real  signifi- 
cance. Whether  or  not  we  approve  of  the  results  is 
beside  the  point ;  the  character  of  the  design  is  due  to 
the  tools  and  processes  employed. 

The  skilled  worker  —  that  is  to  say,  one  who  is 
skilled  in  ideas  as  well  as  in  execution  —  generally 
needs  fewer  tools  than  the  unskilled  worker.  Or,  to 
put  it  another  way,  the  skilled  worker  is  able  to  gain 
with  a  few  tools  a  maximum  of  effect ;  his  artistic,  as 
well  as  mechanical,  invention  finds  many  uses  for  a 
single  tool.  The  skilled  bookbinder  produces  a  great 
variety  of  patterns  from  a  few  simple  tools.  A  prelimi- 
nary pattern,  with  the  aid  of  a  piece  of  carbon  transfer, 
may  be  stamped  upon  paper ;  but  the  effect  is  due  to 
the  artistic  invention  with  which  the  tool  patterns  are 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES 


103 


combined.     The  metalworkers  of  India  use  the  simplest 
possible  tools  and  processes,  often  so  primitive  that 


X^vf(« 


Fig.  46. 


the  achievements  excite  wonder.  A  fertility  of  inven- 
tion enables  them  to  employ  their  simple  appliances  to 
the  greatest  possible  advantage.  In  Figure  46,  a  por- 
tion of  a  brass  plate  of  modern  workmanship,  three 


104     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

tools  only  were  needed  for  the  design  :  a  cutting  tool, 
a  circular  punch,  and  a  mallet  or  hammer.  The  cut- 
ting tool  used  for  the  holes  was  apparently  used  with 
less  force  for  the  lines,  the  short  lines  being  made  by 
tipping  the  tool  at  different  angles  with  the  surface. 
The  punch  was  employed  for  the  double  row  of  cir- 
cles about  the  inside  of  the  rim.  The  result  has  re- 
markable interest,  rare  harmony  of  treatment,  and  the 
unique  character  which  gives  distinction  to  the  work 
of  a  tool-trained  designer.  Such  designs  cannot  be 
foreseen  on  paper. 

There  are  two  points  of  view  from  which  the  influ- 
ence of  tools  and  processes  in  design  may  be  profit- 
ably studied :  first,  that  work  which  may  be  termed 
adventitious,  in  which  the  patterns  were  directly  sug- 
gested by  the  tools,  as  in  the  double  row  of  circular 
punch  marks  in  the  plate  already  referred  to ;  second, 
that  work  in  which  the  tool  has  exerted  a  notable  in- 
fluence in  the  development  of  the  designer's  idea  and  in 
which  the  tool  is  responsible  for  the  character  of  treat- 
ment, —  as  in  the  center  and  outer  border  of  this  plate. 

Just  where  the  tool  ceases  to  influence  the  character 
of  treatment  it  is  often  difficult  to  say.  In  the  hands  of 
a  consummate  craftsman,  such  as  an  artisan  of  old  Japan, 
the  last  trace  of  the  tool  may  be  removed.  It  must  rtot, 
of  course,  be  assumed  that  tool  tracks  are  always 
desirable,  or  are  in  any  sense  essential  to  a  beautiful 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES  105 

product.  But  there  is  a  vast  difference  between  artistic 
finish  and  mechanical  finish.  Where  to  stop  and  when 
to  stop  are  questions  that  remain  with  the  worker. 
A  plank  squared,  planed,  and  laboriously  sandpapered 
has  less  beauty  than  the  hewn  planks  of  mediaeval 
houses.  But  to  take  a  plank  from  the  mill  and  cover 
it  with  adze  marks,  with  the  idea  of  making  it  beautiful, 
would  be  an  aflfectation  inconsistent  with  its  surround- 
ings, a  superficial  imitation  of  primitive  methods  and 
results  to  be  avoided.  Machine  carving  is  deplorable 
because  it  seeks  to  imitate  results  peculiar  to  hand 
processes.  A  maker  of  scientific  instruments  might 
turn  his  hand  to  leather  tooling  with  accurate  precision, 
yet  produce  results  hopelessly  uninteresting ;  mechani- 
cal exactness  generally  drives  the  last  trace  of  beauty 
ffom  a  product.  A  person  less  skilled  of  hand  but 
more  artistic  of  mind  might  gain  with  the  tools  a  more 
interesting  piece  of  work. 

Mediaeval  iron  work  furnishes  material  that  is  par- 
ticularly interesting  in  a  study  of  tool-wrought  orna- 
ment. The  use  of  iron  as  a  strong  factor  in  art 
properly  begins  with  the  period  of  mediaeval  history. 
The  ancients  used  iron  ;  but  the  material  occupied  a 
subordinate  place  in  their  work.  With  the  beginning 
of  mediaeval  history  the  blacksmith  enters  upon  the 
scene  as  an  artisan  of  the  first  importance ;  in  no  other 
craft  can  one  trace  more  clearly  the  significant  influence 


io6     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

of  the  tool  in  shaping  forms  and  patterns,  —  a  beauty 
that  was  achieved  upon  a  background  of  generation 
after  generation  of  tool-trained  men. 

Iron  would  seem  to  be  the  last  material  to  which  a 
man  would  turn  for  beauty^s  sake  alone.  Its  associa- 
tions have  generally  been  with  stern  necessity ;  its 
forms  have  almost  invariably  been  those  that  utility 
has  demanded  for  strength  and  resistance.  To  other 
materials  more  easily  worked,  or  of  greater  intrinsic 
value  and  inherent  beauty,  such  as  ivory,  gold,  silver, 
enamel,  or  wood,  the  craftsman  has  turned  for  forms  of 
convenience  and  luxury.  But  iron,  the  least  promis- 
ing material  of  all  in  its  crude  state,  has  generally 
come  to  the  hands  of  the  man  who  must  build  as  util- 
ity points  the  way.  More  credit  to  the  blacksmith 
that,  through  the  distinction  which  comes  from  fine 
craftsmanship  alone,  he  should  rise  head  and  shoulders 
above  the  purely  useful  trades  and  place  his  work  be- 
side that  of  the  goldsmiths  and  silversmiths  as  a  prod- 
uct possessing  the  highest  order  of  beauty. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  form  in  which  the  iron 
was  delivered  at  the  forge  o£  the  mediaeval  smithy. 
The  ore  was  smelted  by  simple  processes  at  the  mines 
back  in  the  forests  or  on  the  mountain  sides,  rudely 
formed  into  ingots  of  such  size  that  they  might  be 
easily  transported,  and  brought  to  the  towns  to  be 
bartered  in  trade.     To-day  the  iron  may  be  purchased 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES  107 

in  a  great  variety  of  forms,  rolled  into  sheets  of  any 
desired  thickness  or  into  bars  and  rods,  round,  square, 
octagonal,  of  such  lengths  or  dimensions  as  the  worker 
may  specify.  But  the  early  smith  started,  perforce, 
with  the  rough  ingot,  beating  it  out  with  the  most  ar- 
duous kind  of  manual  labor  into  forms  adapted  to  his 
purpose.  Nothing  could  be  more  unsuggestive  than 
the  raw  material  left  beside  his  forge.  To  win  from 
it  a  straight,  flat  bar  suitable  for  a  hinge  was  in  itself 
a  difficult  task.  Persistently  stubborn  and  resistant,  it 
could  be  overcome  only  during  the  brief  interval  after 
it  was  pulled  sputtering  hot  from  the  fire.  Then  back 
to  the  fire  it  must  go  again  to  bring  it  to  a  workable 
condition.  There  was  no  coaxing  with  light  taps,  no 
"  correction  to  righteousness  "  ;  each  blow  must  needs 
be  forceful,  direct. 

The  worker  started  with  a  forge,  an  anvil,  two  or 
three  hammers  and  chisels,  a  punch,  and  similar  tools 
of  the  simplest  contrivance.  The  material,  as  we  have 
seen,  must  be  shaped  while  hot ;  and  while  in  this 
state  separate  pieces  may  be  welded  together.  As 
work  typical  of  these  conditions  the  early  hinge  from 
St.  Albans,  Figure  47,  is  a  good  example.  Construc- 
tively, the  hinge  had  to  spread  out  over  the  surface  of 
the  door  to  bind  the  planks  together  and  secure  a  firm 
clutch  for  the  service  it  had  to  perform.  It  was  bolted 
through  the  door  to  plates  or  straps  of  iron  on  the 


io8     DESIGN    IN    THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


inside.  In  this  hinge  one  may  readily  note  the  character 
that  came  from  the  processes  employed,  and  in  all  of 
the  details  the  tracks  of  the  tools  are  plainly  indicated. 
The  rudely  formed  head  in  the  enlarged  details  is 
nicked  and  scarred  with  chisels  ;  the  welding  points  of 


Fig.  47, 


TOOLS  AND   PROCESSES 


109 


Fig.  48. 

the  various  pieces  are  enriched  in  a  similar  way ;  the 
surface  of  the  hinge  is  cut  with  a  simple  zigzag  pat- 
tern. It  possesses  that  organic,  intimate,  personal 
quality  which  none  but  a  tool-trained  man  could 
achieve.  It  is  iron,  —  and  looks  like  iron.  In  Fig- 
ure 48  are  other  typical  bits  of  tool-made  ornament, 
literally  split  off  with  the  chisel  and  hammer. 


no     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

During  a  period  of  about  two  centuries  simple, 
forged  ornament  of  this  type  continued  to  be  made. 
In  France  some  ingenious  smith  devised  a  method  of 
working  that  brought  a  note  of  variety  to  the  flat 
treatment  generally  followed,  as  may  be  seen  in  Fig- 
ure 49  and  Plate  i6.  The  terminating  ends  were 
gained  by  beating  the  hot  metal  into  swage  blocks  or 


dies.  It  is  interesting  to  trace  the  wanderings  of  some 
craftsman  familiar  with  this  method  of  working  into 
other  lands,  and  the  efforts  to  imitate  the  work  by 
others  unfamiliar  with  the  process.  The  term  jour- 
neyman worker  had  a  real  meaning  in  those  days. 
Through  his  handiwork  a  man  established  a  reputation, 
and  he  was  often  sent  for  from  distant  points,  followed 
in  the  wake  of  conquest  or  journeyed  on  peaceful  mis- 
sion bent,  from  one  town  to  another.  This  peculiar 
type  of  work  offered  additional  possibilities,  culminat- 


TOOLS   AND   PROCESSES 


III 


ing  in  the  wonderful  hinges  of  Notre  Dame  of  Paris, 
beyond  which  there  seemed  no  skill  to  venture.  Noth- 
ing could  serve  as  a  better  illustration  of  the  fact  that 
beauty  entered  into  daily  work  than  that  these  masterly 
hinges  were  generally  credited  to  the  devil  for  lack  of 
definite  knowledge  as  to  who  made  them.  It  was  a 
time  when  workmen  in 
every  craft  were  capable 
of  rising  to  the  finest 
achievements  in  the  most  V"^ 
unassuming  way  when- 
ever the  opportunity 
occurred. 

Into  the  worker's  kit 
there  came  in  due  season 
other  tools,  such  as  the 
drill  and  file  ;  and  here 
again  we  may  follow  the 
trail  left  by  these  tools 
through  innumerable 
examples    of  openwork  hg.  50. 

ornament  leading  to  forms  of  leafage  and  intricate 
traceried  patterns.  Working  on  the  cold  metal  was  more 
generally  practiced,  and  the  character  of  the  enrich- 
ment accordingly  underwent  a  change.  The  traceried 
patterns,  suggested  presumably  by  the  masons,  were 
of  rare  beauty,  often  complicated  in  appearance  and  of 
ingenious  workmanship  (Figure  50). 


112     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

Plant  forms  first  appear  in  an  abstract  way,  gradu- 
ally developing  into  more  specific  forms.  The  worker, 
with  increasing  skill  and  better  appliances,  turned,  as 

does  every  designer 
sooner  or  later,  to 
Nature  for  assistance. 
In  Figure  51  is  a 
very  abstract  sort  of 
leafage,  just  the  thing 
that  a  workman  with 
punch  and  cold  chisel 
would  shape  from  a 
flat  piece  of  metal ;  it 
is  tool-made  Nature. 
In  Figures  52,  53  the 
tool  influence  is  nota- 
ble throughout.  We 
may  feel  sure  that  the 
forms  of  leafage  in  the 
early  work  were  first 
suggested  by  the  iron 
as  it  took  shape  under 
the  hammer  rather 
than  from  any  con- 
scious eflPort  to  conventionalize  some  specific  natural 
form.  Abstract  leaves,  as  in  Figure  54,  would  inevi- 
tably lead  to  leaves  of  a  more   imitative   sort.     The 


Fig.  si. 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES 


113 


Fig.  52. 


hinge  ends  in  Figure  55  illustrate  the  close  relation  be- 
tween tool  work  of  a  purely  abstract  character  and  tool 
work  influenced  by  observation  of  Nature.  In  Figure 
^6  and  in  the  German  door  pulls  of  Plate    17  the 


114     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


refining  influence  of  Nature  again 
appears.  For  a  long  time  the 
craftsmen  stood  at  the  fascinating 
borderland  between  technique  and 
Nature,  when  it  is  difficult  to  say  : 
"  This  started  from  the  tool ;  this 
from  Nature."  But  even  in  the 
most  delicately  forged  and  chiseled 
leaf  work  we  may  see  how  the  de- 
signer's thought  followed  closely 
upon  his  tools,  materials,  and  pro- 
cesses. 

In  all  these  things  there  is  a 
refreshing  vigor,  a  simplicity,  a 
direct 


Fig.  53. 


relation 
between  the  idea  and  its 
execution  lost  in  the  work 
of  later  years.  The  rugged 
quality  peculiar  to  iron  gives 
way  to  finer  finish,  to  ele-  ^^^^^ 
gance  of  line  and  form,  and 
to  a  close  imitation  of  Na- 
ture. The  turning  point  is 
reached  when  the  iron  worker 
subordinates  the  technique 
of   his    craft    to    imitative 


Fig.  54. 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES 


115 


work;     when    he     essays    the     production    of    such 
things    as    may   be    seen    in    Figure    57,    festooned 


Fig.  55. 


garlands  of  roses  with  flying  ribbons.  Whatever 
there  may  be  of  grace  and  elegance  in  the  result, 
however  consummate  the  skill  of  the  worker,  wind- 
blown iron  ribbons  and  strings  of  naturalistic  iron 
flowers  are  illogical  and  inconsistent  with  the  material 
in  which  they  are  executed.  Then,  when  we  find  that 
touches  of  paint  were  added  to  enhance  the  naturalistic 
appearance  of  the  work,  we  have  arrived  at  the  other 
extreme  of  the  transition.     The  iron  worker  began  by 


ii6     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


drawing  upon  Nature  for  suggestions  that  would  add 
beauty  to  the  structural  lines  of  his  design,  and  ended 

by  subordinating  his  ma- 
terial to  a  minor  plane  of 
illogical  imitation. 

Problem.  In  the 
definition  of  principles 
through  abstract  work  it 
may  be  noted  that  three 
types  of  problems  are 
available :  A  figure  in- 
closed on  all  sides,  such 
as  the  square ;  a  figure 
inclosed  on  two  sides, 
like  the  border,  but  pos- 
sible of  indefinite  exten- 
sion on  the  two  other 
sides ;  a  pattern  which 
may  be  indefinitely  extended  on  all  sides,  like  the  sur- 
face repeats  of  this  problem.  As  a  constructive  ar- 
rangement of  the  elements  of  design  the  surface  pattern 
demands  persistent  effort,  close  attention  to  space  and 
mass  relations,  and  the  rhythmic  connection  of  details 
to  secure  unity.  Here,  as  in  the  previous  problem, 
nothing  could  be  more  stupid  than  the  mere  repetition 
of  a  "  unit,"  leaving  to  chance  the  organic  relation  of 
the  repeats. 


Fig.  50. 


^iF 


^■^X  ^C  >"t 


r 


IS 


PLATE  1 8. 

Insect  Symbols. 


PLATE  19. 

Nature  Symbols. 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES 


117 


The  designs  in  Figure  58,  and  Plates  18,  19,  are  not 
made  to  meet  the  technical  requirements  of  print- 
ing or  weaving ;  nor  has  their  construction  demanded 
any  knowledge  of  "  drop  patterns "  or  the  other 
mechanical  ques- 
tions which  the 
designer  of  tex- 
tiles or  wall 
papers  must  ac- 
cept as  limita- 
tions. It  is  not 
even  contended 
that  these  designs 
are  beautiful  or 
that  one  would 
care  to  live  with 
them  day  by  day. 
They  count  for 
"  orderly  think- 
ing " ;  for  constructive  skill,  as  essential  to  the  designer 
as  to  the  carpenter,  under  limitations  so  simple  that 
common  sense  may  be  permitted  to  take  precedence 
over  aesthetic  "  inspiration."  The  enthusiasm  of  the 
amateur  is  sometimes  dampened  on  the  discovery  that 
the  study  of  design  is  quite  as  troublesome  and  arduous 
a  process  as  the  study  of  music  or  medicine ;  that  de- 
signs are  not  inspired  during  the  pleasant  interval  fol- 


C?-^ 


Rococo  J^le-Af|erneycf 

FIG.  57. 


ii8     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


Fig.  s8. 


TOOLS   AND    PROCESSES  119 

lowing  lunch,  but  are  built  up  through  the  unremitting 
concentration  of  every  faculty  of  mind,  eye,  and  hand. 
In  the  development  of  a  surface  repeat  a  "  unit"  is, 
of  course,  necessary  ;  but  of  greater  necessity  is  a  clearly 
defined  idea  of  what  one  is  trying  to  achieve  with  a 
unit.  All  that  has  been  said  in  explanation  of  previous 
problems  is  applicable  in  principle  to  the  present  ef- 
fort. The  motif  and  limitations  are  those  of  the  last 
problem  ;  the  process  is  the  same  under  slightly  differ- 
ent conditions.  With  a  tentative  unit  in  hand  draw 
a  vertical  line  in  the  center  of  a  sheet  of  transparent 
paper  and  a  similar  line  through  the  unit  itself.  A 
tracing  should  then  be  made  in  the  center  of  the  sheet. 
On  two  smaller  pieces  of  transparent  paper  two  more 
tracings  of  the  unit  should  be  made,  —  four  in  all. 
Now,  with  purpose  in  mind,  try  different  combinations 
of  these  units  before  committing  yourself  to  the  first 
repeat  of  the  surface  pattern.  As  a  problem  in  design 
it   is   now  fairly  ^     ^     ^  y^xxx^JH^WJ^  I^^IP* 

adjust  the  rela-l  |||||  ||||  in|||n|||f  H  fn 
tionsof  the  pat-IJI  IIJIIIJI  lyjl  yjliai^i 
tern  as  a  whole  to  *•*"    •••*•    "••»    MMiJ-s.Mr'S-illl«— illl 

the  end    that   it  ^'^- 5^* 

may  be  more  than  the  mere  repetition  of  a  unit   at 

regular   intervals.     Doubtless  the  unit  itself,  consid- 


120     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

ered  as  a  detail  in  a  larger  whole,  will  have  to  be 
changed.  Elasticity  of  all  the  details  is  essential  to 
the  building  up  of  the  pattern  on  constructive  lines. 
Figure  59  furnishes  a  clew  to  the  process.  We  seek 
as  many  rhythmic  connections  as  possible  counting  for 
unity  with  concentration  of  spaces  and  masses,  each 
element  to  contribute  a  share  in  the  final  result.   . 


CHAPTER   VII 

Refinement  of  Proportions 

**But  while  beauty,  in  line  and  mass,  may  sometimes 
seem  to  be  curiously  confirmed  by  such  tests  as  these  (analy- 
sis of  proportions),  it  may  be  doubtful  whether  it  can  be 
created  by  them ;  for  elasticity,  life  and  freedom  seem  to 
be  the  essential  qualities  of  true  art." 

IT  is  difficult,  in  the  planning,  to  acquire  the  habit 
of  thinking  of  things  as  a  whole ;  to  work 
from  the  whole  to  the  parts ;  and,  finally,  to 
consider  each  part  as  related  to  the  other  parts  in  a 
unity  of  effect.  We  are  prone  to  adopt  the  process 
of  the  child  who  drew  a  button  first  and  then  built  a 
man  around  the  button.  It  takes  more  than  a  multi- 
plication of  trees  and  flowers  to  make  a  park ;  more 
than  streets  and  houses  to  make  a  beautiful  city.  The 
whole  is  always  more  important  than  any  of  its  parts; 
or,  to  put  it  another  way,  it  takes  more  than  the  asso- 
ciation of  beautiful  details  to  make  a  beautiful  whole. 
Each  detail,  like  each  instrument  in  an  orchestra,  has 
its  part  to  perform.  Its  proportion,  position,  char- 
acter, are  relative  to  other  things. 

121 


122     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

In  a  constructive  problem  the  first  step  toward  true 
beauty  would  be  the  adjustment  of  the  proportions  of 
the  whole.  It  may  be  well  to  note  a  radical  difference 
between  proportions  and  dimensions.  We  feel  pro- 
portions ;  we  measure  dimensions.  A  draughtsman 
may  develop  a  remarkable  facility  with  the  ruler  and 
compass  in  the  laying  out  of  dimensions,  yet  be  with- 
out any  appreciation  or  feeling  for  fine  proportions. 
Proportion  is  the  comparative  relations  of  various 
dimensions.  In  any  constructive  problem  our  choice 
of  proportions  is  necessarily  limited  by  the  function  of 
the  object.  In  a  table  or  chair,  for  instance,  certain 
dimensions  must  be  accepted  as  limitations.  Harmo- 
nious proportions  result  when  a  unity  is  secured  in 
which  all  of  the  measures  are  intimately  related.  Says 
Hegel,  "  Harmony  is  a  unity,  all  the  terms  of  which 
are  in  interior  accord.'* 

Let  us  illustrate  the  point :  In  Figure  60  the  first 
sketch  is  a  square.  This,  it  may  be  inferred,  is  more 
harmonious  in  its  proportions  than  the  other  sketches 
because  the  terms  are  identical.  The  pleasure  which 
we  derive  from  harmony,  though,  is  not  in  uniformity, 
but  in  variations  and  oppositions  bound  together  by  a 
"  manifestation  of  their  reciprocal  agreement."  Har- 
mony and  contrast,  unity  and  variety,  —  these  are  not 
terms  of  opposite  meaning.  Contrast  is  the  spice  that 
gives  interest  to   harmony.     Unity  with   variety    in- 


REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS 


123 


terests  us ;  but  with  uniformity  our  interest  ceases. 
Even  uniformity  though,  as  a  relative  factor,  may  be 
well  justified.  In  B  there  is  variety ;  but  we  are 
troubled  by  a  lack  of  clearness.  It  is  almost,  though 
not  quite,  a  square.     It  was  said  that  a  design  must  be 


■T 

n 

ZJL_ 

bod 

»                                       0 

uuu 

II       '^        11       c-a 

doc 

fnrilri 

•                                                  X. 

Fig.  60. 


clear  and  coherent  in  expresssion.  In  practice  this 
also  may  be  justified;  as,  for  instance,  in  Plate  20  one 
surely  has  no  desire  to  attempt  an  improvement  upon 
this  weaver's  idea.  In  C  (Figure  60)  the  square  is 
doubled,  giving  an  agreement  of  terms  that  is  obvious. 
Continuing  to  D  are  proportions  more  subtle,  though 
bound  together  by  a  dominant  unit  of  measure,  "  the 
rhythmic  half."  One  half  of  the  end  goes  three  times 
in  the  side.  Considering  these  four  sketches  in  the 
abstract,  it  may  be  said  that  D  excites  our  interest 
more  and  holds  it  longer  than  the  others ;  it  is  clear 
without  being  too  obvious ;  it  is  a  harmony  of  con- 


124     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

trasts.  Suppose  we  wish  to  break  this  rectangle  into 
space  divisions.  In  £  we  approach  uniformity  again 
with  a  consequent  loss  of  interest.  In  i^  is  a  more 
interesting  breaking  that  gives  unequal  but  related 
areas.  With  the  next  step,  G,  the  line  of  safety  has 
been  overstepped  ;  the  divisions  are  not  only  unequal, 
but  are  unrelated  as  well.  In  H  there  is  a  return  to  a 
sane  expression  of  the  idea,  continued  through  further 
subdivisions  in  the  final  sketch. 

Note  the  subtle  relations  of  line  and  space  in  the 
old  Korean  cabinet  shown  in  the  same  figure.  There 
is  no  possible  element  of  chance  in  it;  the  designer 
has  achieved  beauty  through  a  thoughtful  adjustment 
of  proportions.  Carry  the  principle  into  the  setting 
out  of  the  end  of  a  room  ;  if  more  thought  were  given 
this  subject,  architects  might  find  more  appreciative 
clients.  The  question  pursues  us  to  the  last  scrap  of 
ornament  that  we  may  choose  to  employ.  Secure 
variety,  but  remember  that  in  variety  alone  there  is  no 
merit.  There  must  be  coordination  of  all  the  parts  to 
make  a  whole. 

It  is  not  the  purpose  to  enter  into  a  prolonged 
discussion  of  good  proportions,  but  rather  to  direct 
attention  to  the  importance  of  this  point  and  then 
develop  the  significance  of  the  principle  as  the  work 
progresses.  Many  ingenious  theories  and  systems 
have  been  devised  to  explain  the  proportions  employed 


REFINEMENT    OF   PROPORTIONS         125 

by  the  Greek  and  mediaeval  builders.  Any  one  par- 
ticularly interested  in  a  scientific  demonstration  of  the 
subject  and  the  various  systems  involved  should  con- 
sult such  a  reference  as  Gwilt's  "  Encyclopedia  of 
Architecture."  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  builders  of 
the  past  used  various  geometric  schemes  for  proportion- 
ing a  building ;  it  is  a  logical  method.  In  mediaeval 
times  builders  were  architects,  and  the  elaborate  work- 
ing drawings  of  to-day  were  unknown.  Cathedrals 
were  built  as  one  might  build  with  blocks.  Giotto's 
Campanile  was  formed  of  six  cubes,  one  placed  on 
another.  In  a  similar  way  we  may  analyze  the  propor- 
tions of  many  churches  and  temples.  A  unit  of 
measure  dominates  the  whole  and  the  parts.  That 
some  dominant  unit  of  measure  may  be  felt,  though 
not  necessarily  measured,  or  advertised,  as  in  the  Greek 
fret,  seems  a  logical  conclusion  from  an  analysis  of 
many  examples  of  satisfying  things. 

Let  us  study  some  definite  instances  (Figure  61). 
A  familiar  example  is  found  in  the  Greek  fret,  so 
called,  though  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  invented 
sooner  or  later  by  nearly  all  primitive  people  who 
practiced  the  art  of  weaving.  This  fret  comes  peril- 
ously near  to  the  obvious ;  the  dominant  unit  of 
measure  is  given  advertisement.  But  it  illustrates  the 
statement  that  it  is  generally  unsatisfactory  and  unwise 
to  isolate  a  scrap  of  ornament  from  its  surroundings. 


126     DESIGN    IN    THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


This  fret  was  often  employed  in  positions  where  it 
served  as  a  contrast  to  other  features.  The  very 
things  that  seem  monotonous  were  highly  desirable 
under  those  conditions.  Again,  when  carved  in  stone, 
sunlight  and  shadow  must  be  taken  into  account. 
Below  it  is  the  setting   out  of  one  type  of  a  Greek 


■.±zzzzim 

ffiffi- 

;p:::S 

mm' 

\J^^'^ 

n^^--^ 

■i 

=7'                ^ 

■"" 

Fig.  6i. 


temple.  Here  the  unit  of  measure  is  less  apparent, 
though  quite  insistent.  In  the  center  is  a  section  from 
Amiens  Cathedral  with  more  spice  of  variety,  yet  under 
the  restraint  of  a  dominant  measure  welding  the  parts 
together  into  unity.  At  the  right  is  the  setting-out 
scheme  of  Notre  Dame  in  Paris.  The  dignity  and 
grandeur  of  the  structure  as  a  whole  is  dependent  on 
these  big  relations  first  established.  In  this  general 
scheme  each  detail  plays  its  part. 


REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS         127 


In  Figure  62  is  a  Greek  vase  form.  We  feel  that 
it  is  right  without  worrying  it  with  a  yardstick. 
There  is  no  possible  desire  to  change  a  line,  a  curve, 
or  a  space.  That  it  fulfills  its  function  may  be  known 
from  paintings  and  sculptures  in  which  the  use  of 
this  particular 
type  of  vase  is 
portrayed.  Then 
it  must  be  beau- 
tiful, else  where 
should  we  expect 
to  find  beauty  ? 
In  the  means 
employed  to  gain 

this     singular  fig.  62. 

charm  we  have,  as  students,  an  interest.  The  diagram 
explains  itself  Compare  some  of  the  measures  noted 
and  consider  how  very  important  this  master  designer 
deemed  the  question  of  proportions.  Note  again  the 
harmony  of  curves  used  throughout ;  the  same  curve 
varying  in  proportions. 

In  Figure  6^  is  a  Gothic  credence  after  a  sketch  by 
Viollet-le-Duc.  A  miniature  representation  of  this 
piece  of  furniture  appears  in  one  of  the  scenes  on  the 
carved  choir  screen  at  Amiens.  There  is  no  excuse 
for  imitating  its  superficial  details  ;  it  would  be  better 
to  trace  its  beauty  back  to  the  source.     The  first  test 


128     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

is  in  the  elimination  of  its  ornament.  Is  its  beauty 
gone  ?  Far  from  it.  A  tree  is  still  beautiful  after  its 
leaves  have  fallen  ;  when  the  poppy  is  gone,  the  seed  pod 
remains ;  more,  it  was  for  the  sake  of  the  seed  pod  that 
the  poppy  was  given  its  transient  beauty.  The  charm 
of  the  credence  is  not  in  its  ornament,  but  in  the  con- 


1     II 

1 

1 

Fig.  63. 

structive  relations  of  which  the  ornament  is  merely 
a  part.  In  the  adjustment'  of  these  constructive 
elements,  in  the  "  reciprocal  agreement "  of  all 
the  parts,  is  the  mainstay  of  its  beauty.  Last  of 
all,  though  first  in  importance,  does  it  adequately  fill 
the  purpose  for  which  it  was  made  ?  Now  reverse 
the  process  and  follow  it  up  to  the  last  shred  of  orna- 
ment, and  we  have  the  logical  development   of  any 


PLATE  21. 
Medi.^val  Cabinet  Work.     (Metropolitan  Museum.) 


'^^ 


-     -^^-*tl. 

^            mM^MMl&mtmimJ^^^^^^B—                          v.'*-                                                      ^^ij%^,«. 

4  '          I          ' ' 

~lf  p#:"n 

1 

•n  .^     1 

'  '                           »              Vf               J 

REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS 


129 


constructive    design.     Nature    teaches    us    that    parts 
which  differ  in  function  should 
differ   in    appearance.      With 
this  in  mind  note  the  way  in 
which  the  ornament  is  used. 

Plate  21  is  a  conspicuous 
example  of  well-related  pro-  £ 
portions,  the  practical  and  the 
aesthetic  bound  together,  as 
must  ever  be  the  case  in  a 
constructive  problem.  In 
Figure  64  are  other  schemes 
showing  the  setting  out  of 
proportions  and  the  continued 
subdivision  of  forms  into  de- 
tails of  ornament.  It  is  this 
process  that  results  in  "built- 
in  "  ornament.  As  a  startling 
comparison  with  these  simple, 
organic,  restful  things  examine 
the  cabinet  in  Plate  22.  Here 
a  sense  of  oneness  is  lost  in  a 
jumble  of  unrelated  details; 
too  many  elements  clamor  for 
attention.      Much  of  the  or- 


:s 


g 


n 


Fig.  64. 


nament  might  be  lost  or  mislaid  and  one  would  never 
miss  it;    it  is  not  organic  enrichment;    it  is  built-on 


130     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

ornament,  not  built-in  ornament.  Skilled  technique  has 
outbalanced  fine  discrimination. 

As  a  study  in  the  proportion  of  parts  and  the 
distribution  of  space  and  mass  nothing  could  be  finer 
than  Plate  23.  It  is  a  piece  of  Coptic  weaving,  a 
masterpiece  of  the  highest  order.  Study  it  as  a  dark 
and  light  composition  ;  it  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired. 
Similar  in  character  is  Plate  20,  a  splendid  adjustment 
of  proportions  and  relative  interests. 

In  the  planning  of  proportions  we  may  adopt  the 
logical  method  of  the  Greek  potter  in  Figure  62,  or 
we  may  depend  upon  intuition,  as  doubtless  did  the 
Coptic  weavers.  In  either  case  we  are  led  to  the 
same  conclusion  :  proportions  in  the  final  test  are  felt, 
not  measured ;  and  no  amount  of  ingenious  juggling 
with  ruler  and  compass  will  establish  harmonious  pro- 
portions if  the  sensitive  feeling  for  them  is  not  within 
us.  Lacking  this  feeling,  there  is  no  theory  par  excel- 
lence by  which  good  proportions  may  be  obtained  at 
all  times  and  on  all  occasions ;  no  system  on  which 
we  may  hobble  about  as  if  it  were  a  crutch.  We,  too, 
may  design  a  temple  and  invent  some  ingenious 
formula  for  the  purpose,  —  only  to  find  when  it  is  com- 
pleted that  it  is  wholly  bad  and  uninteresting.  That 
intuition  which/^^/j  good  proportions  may  be  cultivated 
only  through  persistent  study  and  practice.  Many  ex- 
periments of  an  abstract  nature  may  be  tried  with  profit. 


REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS 


131 


for  it  is  not  alone  through  observation  but  through  ex- 
periments and  comparisons  that  one's  judgment  is 
strengthened.  Such  little  things  as  those  indicated 
in  Figure  65  may 
make  all  the  differ- 
ence in  the  world 
between  a  "  carpen- 
ter-made "  chest  and 
a  piece  of  furniture 
that  challenges  one's 
attention  through 
harmony  with  con- 
trast, unity  with  va- 
riety, in  the  schem- 
ing of  the  rela- 
tive proportions  in- 
volved. 

Let  us  note  the 
application  of  the 
idea  to  a  definite  problem,  —  a  jewelry  casket.  Its  con- 
struction involves  the  use  of  wood,  leather,  and  metal. 
In  Figures  66,  67  the  general  form  and  proportions  are 
assumed  and  the  structural  elements  indicated.  The 
function  of  each  part  is  emphasized,  body,  cover,  feet, 
hinges,  handles,  and  clasp ;  the  relative  proportions  of 
these  parts  of  wood,  leather,  and  metal  to  the  proportions 
of  the  whole  is  decided  upon.     In  an  acceptance  of  these 


1 

-J  

— 11 

Fig.  65. 


132 


DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


Fig.  66. 


elements  we    have  the  clews  for  a  consistent  design. 

In  such  a  problem  it 
isj  of  course,  neces- 
sary to  think  in 
terms  of  three  di- 
mensions. A  cover, 
a  side,  an  end,  each 
good  in  itself,  may 
not  make  a  good 
whole.  It  is  the  re- 
lation of  these  three 
that  counts. 

In   Plate  24,  the 

first  example,  a  very  simple  refinement  of  the  structural 

elements    is   shown. 

Dominant  interest  is 

given  to  the   metal 

work;    to    this    all 

else  is   subordinate. 

The  metal  handles, 

hinges,     and     clasp 

furnish  the  clew  for 

the  space   divisions 

of    the    body    and 

cover.     Each  func-  fig.  67. 

tional  element  is  strengthened  and  emphasized  by  the 

parallel  lines  tooled  on  the  surface  of  the  leather ;  the 


^y 


:"!??rT!tt 


M 


z^  •  -^ 


^     Q 


REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS 


133 


angles  are  strengthened  and  a  note  of  variety  given  to 
the  tooling  by  a  slight  opposition  of  lines.      In  the 
second   example  of 
Plate  24  an  enrich- 
ment   of    a     more 
complex  character  is 
suggested;    but  the 
development     from 
the    whole    to    the 
parts  (Figure  68)  is 
the   same  as  in  the 
simpler        example. 
Whatever  the  char-                           f^^-  ^^' 
acter  of  the  enrichment,  it  must  be  organically  related 
'■  N    to     the    struc- 


i§ 


tural  elements, 
of  which  it  is 
merely  a  part. 
Now,  in  or- 
der to  justify  the 
interest  which  is 
directed  to  the 
metal  work,  it 
should,  of 
course,  be  given  thoughtful  attention.  With  punch, 
drill,  saw,  and  file,  holes  might  be  cut  to  define  a  pattern 
or  framework  (Figure  69).      The  lines  of  this  pattern 


Z*"*^ 


Fig.  69. 


134     DESIGN   IN    THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

should  be  bound  together  so  that  there  would  be  no  loose 
ends  or  sharp  points.  The  interest  may  be  primarily  in 
the  lines  of  the  pattern,  though  it  is  necessary  to  keep 
in  mind  that  the  holes  must  have  variety  in  shapes  and 
measures,  and  must  not  be  left  to  group  themselves 
awkwardly. 

To  the  mediaeval  craftsman  metallic  features  of  any 
kind  were  accepted  as  structural  necessities  in  his 
design.  He  seized  upon  them  joyfully,  gloried  in 
them,  wrought  them  with  all  the  loving  care  of  an 
artist.  About  them  he  built  his  panels ;  to  them  he 
made  the  lines  of  his  carving  conform.  But  now  we 
of  a  more  enlightened  age  call  them  "  hardware."  The 
door  fixtures,  handles,  lock  plates,  which  were  the  joy 
of  the  old  craftsmen,  which  men  once  deemed  worthy 
of  their  best  thought  and  effort,  are  now  a  cheap  and 
brassy  mockery.  The  blight  of  modern  commercial- 
ism has  descended  upon  them.  They  are  ugly  and 
unlovely  because  to  make  them  beautiful  would  de- 
mand deep  and  earnest  thought;  and  the  only  evi- 
dence of  thought  to  be  found  in  our  hardware  is  of  a 
mechanical  origin ;  for  the  rest  we  seek  diligently  to 
cheapen  the  material,  cheapen  the  process  of  manufac- 
ture, cheapen  and  degrade  the  workman,  —  and  from 
this  array  of  cheapness  beauty  flees  as  from  a  plague. 
Beauty  has  demanded  ever  that  men  shall  question, 
"  How  thoroughly  and  with  what  thought  and  feeling 


REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS         135 

may  this  piece  of  work  be  fashioned  ? ''  not  "  How 
cheaply  may  the  job  be  finished  and  how  much  of 
sham  and  pretense  may  enter  into  its  execution  ? " 
There  are  bits  of  metal  work  on  the  doors  of  houses 
in  some  of  the  old  German  towns  with  an  honest 
beauty  sufficient  to  stampede  all  of  our  pretentious 
modern  hardware  back  to  the  melting  pots.  Those 
things  possess  a  human  interest  because  they  were 
fashioned  to  meet  the  demands  of  adequate  service ; 
but,  more  than  this,  because  those  who  made  and  used 
them  were  impelled  to  rise  through  and  beyond  all 
demands  of  immediate  necessity  to  the  expression  of 
some  sentiment  or  feeling  in  all  that  became  a  part  of 
daily  life  and  work. 

Study  the  hinge  as  developed  by  Gothic  craftsmen 
(Figure  70).  With  a  broad,  firm  hold  it  clings  to  the 
casing  for  support,  and  reaches  out  across  the  door  to 
grasp  it  in  a  strong,  secure  clutch.  It  must  be  actually 
strong;  but  it  must  also  convince  us  of  its  strength. 
This  is  always  an  important  consideration  in  design. 
A  functional  element  must  be  adequate  for  the  service 
it  is  expected  to  perform  ;  but  that  it  is  adequate  must 
be  made  apparent  to  the  eye.  We  must  feel  its 
strength.  The  leg  of  a  table  might  be  so  strengthened 
that  it  could  be  made  comparatively  small  in  diameter ; 
but  the  result  would  be  unsatisfactory  because  it  would 
not  assure  us  that  it  possessed  the  strength  necessary 


136     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

to  support  a  burden.  The  hinge  clutches  the  door  by 
means  of  screws  or  bolts.  Thus,  while  the  hinge  it- 
self is  functional,  it  in  turn  must  conform  in  line  and 
form  to  the  elements  which  secure  it  to  the  door.     In 


Fig.  70. 

Other  words^  the  only  structural  reason  for  designing 
the  hinge  is  to  give  position  to  a  certain  number  of 
screws  or  bolts.  Note  in  Figure  70  that  the  curve  on 
the  casing  is  so  fashioned  that  the  screws  will  not  all 
enter  the  same  grain  of  the  wood.  This  would  tend 
to  split  the  casing  and  destroy  the  value  of  the  hinge. 
A  piece  of  work  is  not  finished  until  the  last  scrap  of 
detail  has  been  accounted  for.     If  a  washer  appears  in 


REFINEMENT   OF   PROPORTIONS         137 

the  design,  it  should  be  given  a  distinctive  beauty  of  its 
own.  Even  the  head  of  a  bolt  may  be  given  interest 
by  the  judicious  use  of  a  file.  Keys,  knockers, 
handles,  —  to  hide  them  from  sight  or  to  ignore  the 
claims  which  they  have,  or  to  shirk  the  possibilities 
which  they  offer  is  a  confession  of  our  inability  to 
design  on  the  basis  of  adequate  service. 

Problem.  To  think  of  Nature  in  terms  of  design 
is  one  of  the  difficult  tasks  that  confronts  the  student. 
As  the  beauty  and  interest  of  the  design  is  not  in  the 
motif  or  subject-matter  chosen,  but  in  the  constructive 
relations  of  Hnes,  forms,  and  tones,  it  would  seem 
desirable,  before  approaching  Nature  for  assistance,  to 
acquire  through  practice  the  habit  of  working  from  a 
design  point  of  view.  The  term  conventionalization 
unfortunately  conveys  to  many  the  idea  of  worrying 
some  natural  specimen  into  an  unnatural  appearance, 
of  putting  Nature  into  a  strait-jacket,  as  it  were, 
through  a  process  that  tends  to  rob  the  original  motif 
of  its  peculiar,  often  transient,  charm  without  supply- 
ing that  other  subtle  charm  from  which  a  design 
derives  strength  and  character.  Students  frequently 
seek  help  from  Nature  before  they  have  learned  to 
think  from  a  design  point  of  view ;  and  having  little  to 
take  to  Nature,  they  receive  little  in  return. 

It  is  the  thought  of  the  present  problem  to  develop 
a  design  from  an  abstract  symbol  suggesting  plant  form, 


138     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

though  not  "  based  on  "  any  particular  natural  speci- 
men. The  symbol  may  be  stated  as  three  berries  — 
two  leaves.  The  limitations  are  the  same  as  in  the 
last  problem,  lines  having  the  directions  of  the  vertical 
and  horizontal,  right  and  left  oblique  forty-five  degrees. 

The  possibilities  of  any  design  are  to  be  sought  in 
its  limitations,  —  to  shirk  or  ignore  them  is  to  form  a 
dangerous  habit.  The  wise  designer  generally  seeks 
his  limitations  first.  In  practice  they  are  from  con- 
structive or  technical  reasons.  There  are  two  reasons 
for  the  arbitrary  imposition  of  limitations  in  these  prob- 
lems ;  one  is  to  simplify  matters  in  order  that  a  rhythmic 
interrelation  of  details  may  be  assured  and  a  harmony 
acquired  through  the  recurrence  of  certain  clearly  de- 
fined lines ;   the  other  is  purely  a  matter  of  discipline. 

The  demonstrations  to  the  present  point  have  been 
sufficiently  detailed  to  require  no  further  explanation 
of  the  method  to  be  employed  in  building  up  such  de- 
signs as  those  shown  in  Figure  71,  and  Plates  25,  26. 
The  four  inclosed  figures  in  the  last  plate  have  been 
chosen  with  purpose.  Study  them  carefully  with  these 
thoughts  in  mind:  (i)  Each  result  is  complete  in 
itself.  (2)  There  are  three  things  to  consider  in  each, 
—  the  center,  the  sides,  the  corners.  (3)  Note  the 
proportion  of  space  to  mass  in  each.  (4)  Note  the 
shape  relation  of  the  space  to  the  inclosing  form. 
(5)  Note  the  different  positions  of  the  dominant  interest 


P^      » 


PLATE  26. 
Nature  Symbols. 


REFINEMENT    OF   PROPORTIONS         139 

in  each  secured  through  the  concentration  or  grouping 
of  unique  shapes,  or  from  tone  contrast,  or  both. 

Let  us  utilize  another  factor  that  may  contribute  to 
the  interest  of  the  problems,  —  the  adjustment  of  tone 


m 


■■■■■■■■■■■■PiMaMiMHMHHiil^HMiHB  @ 


Fig.  71. 

relations.  The  "  charcoal  gray,"  as  mentioned  in  the 
preface,  is  a  neutral  pigment.  With  this  pigment  and 
varying  amounts  of  water  it  will  be  found  that  a  grada- 
tion of  tone  can  be  made  from  black  to  white.  It  is 
desirable  for  purposes  of  study  to  render  this  gradation 
in  a  series  of  definite  notes.  The  number  of  distinct 
value  notes  which  the  eye  can  discriminate  is  surpris- 


140     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

ingly  few,  probably  not  more  than  twenty-five.  It 
will  simplify  matters  to  choose  a  scale  of  five  notes  of 
gray  corresponding  to  the  scale  in  Figure  3.  This 
may  be  referred  to  as  the  value  scale ;  the  value  of  a 
tone,  whatever  its  color  may  be,  means  the  relative 
position  it  bears  to  black  or  white.  Such  a  scale  of 
values  is  shown  in  Plate  2.  It  seems  unnecessary  to 
explain  how  it  is  made ;  its  mechanism  has  been  so 
often  explained  in  other  publications  that  the  scale  now 
may  be  accepted  as  a  fact  accomplished.  It  is  enough 
to  emphasize  the  importance  of  the  half  note  as  the  key 
to  the  scale,  midway  in  value,  as  well  as  position,  be- 
tween the  extremes.  It  will  be  seen  that  ten  different 
value  schemes  of  three  notes  each  are  possible  with  this 
simple  instrument. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
The  Play  Impulse 

**  When  man  no  longer  finds  enjoyment  in  work,  and 
works  merely  to  attain  as  quickly  as  possible  to  enjoyment, 
it  is  a  mere  accident  that  he  does  not  become  a  criminal.** 
—  Theodor  Mommsen. 

THERE  is  a  peculiar  and  never  failing  source 
of  interest  in  that  type  of  work  which  has  an 
element  of  the  grotesque  in  its  make-up.  If 
we  were  to  remove  from  the  field  of  art  all  that  is  of  a 
grotesque  nature,  we  would  lose  much  that  has  appealed 
to  human  sympathy,  much  that  has  given  joy  and  pleas- 
ure to  the  producers.  There  are  few  things  indeed 
that  approach  the  height  which  a  philosophy  of  art 
defines  as  ideal ;  and  if  we  in  a  study  of  art  history 
examine  only  those  things  which  achieve  the  ideal,  we 
shall  miss,  through  lack  of  sympathy  and  understand- 
ing, many  things  that  are  real  and  vital.  We  generally 
try  to  read  into  art  that  which  we  think  should  be  there 
in  the  light  of  our  own  thought  and  experience ;  it  is 
difficult  to  place  one's  self  in  the  position  of  the  man  who 
produced  a  piece  of  work.  We  learn  much  about  art ; 
but  the  information  acquired  often  fails  to  respond  to 

our  own  environment  and  needs.     Information  about 

141 


142     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

art  is  vastly  different  from  artistic  feeling.  We  pass 
over  much  that  possesses  fresh  interest,  real  significance, 
because  our  experience  has  not  been  such  that  we  are 
in  a  position  to  appreciate  that  bubbling  over  of  the 
play  impulse  which  comes  to  those  engaged  in  creative 
work  under  favorable  conditions.  We  seek  those 
things  that  have  become  crystallized  into  a  "  period  " 
or  "  style  "  which  may  be  conveniently  labelled  and 
classified  in  our  minds,  but  have  no  formula  that  en- 
ables us  to  follow  the  trail  of  art  through  humble, 
unclassified  products  which  are  often  strong  and  insist- 
ent with  personality. 

Broadly  noted  the  grotesque  is  of  two  sorts :  that 
which  is  purposeful,  intended  to  incite  laughter  or  fear ; 
that  which  is  unintentional,  the  result  of  incomplete 
observation  or  unskilled  technique. 

It  is  always  necessary  to  draw  a  distinction  between 
the  wholesome  grotesque,  which  arises  from  a  sponta- 
neous and  irresistible  play  impulse,  and  the  unwhole- 
some grotesque,  which  proceeds  from  a  determination 
to  be  bizarre  and  unique  at  any  cost,  descending  to 
ribaldry  and  insolent  jest  in  the  effete  and  waning  days 
of  the  Renaissance,  and  in  much  that  we  call  Art  Nou- 
veau  of  the  present  day.  The  wholesome  grotesque 
comes  straight  from  the  heart ;  its  appeal  is  to  that  side 
of  human  nature  which  makes  all  the  world  akin. 
There  is  in  it  the  same  quality  that  is  found  in  the  work 


m^' 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE 


H3 


of  children  who,  at  certain  ages,  express  themselves 
with  pencil  or  brush  in  a  way  that  is  free  and  genuine. 
We  can  find  nothing  of  interest  in  the  child's  work 
unless  we  have  a  sympathetic  understanding  of  the 
spirit  in  which  it  was  produced.  The  unwholesome 
grotesque  is  of  a  self-conscious  sort ;  lacking  imagina- 
tion the  worker  seeks  to  devise  senseless,  formless 
shapes  disclaiming  law  and  order,  leering  figures  termi- 
nating in  floral  or  vegetable  growths,  an  incongruous 
association  of  ideas  and  motifs. 

In  primitive  art,  in  the  work  of  the  mediaeval  crafts- 
men, and  in  many  phases  of  Ori- 
ental art,  the  wholesome  grotesque 
is  found  at  its  best.  The  pleasure 
which  men  derived  from  their  work 
is  reflected  in  every  stroke  of  the 
hammer  or  cut  of  the  chisel.  We 
are  entertained,  even  amused',  by 
playful  fancies,  by  a  na'ive  and  spon- 
taneous touch.  Figure  72,  from 
Peru,  and  Figure  73,  the  work  of  a 
mediaeval  blacksmith,  are  typical  ex- 
amples of  the  wholesome  grotesque. 
Those  men  were  not  striving  after 
unattainable  ideals ;  nor  were  they 
hampered  in  the  expression  of  their  thought  by  the  fear 
of  breaking  some  precedent;  they  were  pleased  with 


Fig.  72. 


144     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


their  jobs  and  brought  to  their  daily  problems  such 
unaffected  invention,  wholesome  sense,  and  honest 
craftsmanship  as  they  could. 

Similar  in  character  are  the  sketches  in 
Figure  74  from  an  old  Byzantine  hunting 
horn,  and  in  Figure  75  of  the  twelfth 
century.  If  there  was  any  humor  in  a  sit- 
uation, those  men  might  be  depended  upon 
to  depict  it. 

It  is  true  that  much  in  primitive  and 
mediaeval  art  that  appeals  to  our  sense  of 
humor  may  not  have  been  intended  by  the 
makers  to  be  of  a  humorous  nature.  There 
are  many  rude  designs  that  had  a  significant 
^^^  message  to  people  of  contemporary  times, 
long  since  lost  to  us.  It  is  sometimes 
difficult  to  say  whether  a  given  design  was  intended 
to  be  quaintly  grotesque  or  was  symbolic  in  character. 


Fig.  73.' 


Fig.  74. 


But  we  cannot  help  feeling  that  even  the  chimeras, 
griffins,  and  other  monsters  of  the  mediaeval  craftsmen 
were  wrought  in  much  the  same  spirit  in  which  two 


v•^♦' 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE 


145 


boys  carve  a  jack-o'-lantern  out  by  the  back  yard  fence. 
They  assure  each  other  that  it  will  frighten  all  who  be- 
hold its  fearsome  countenance,  yet  they  know  full  well 
in  their  hearts  that  no  one  is  going  to  be  really  fright- 


FiG.  75. 

ened.  It  is  merely  a  symbol,  and  an  evidence  of  fear 
on  the  part  of  the  beholder  is  his  share  in  the  game. 
To  follow  the  grotesque  back  through  primitive  art 
is  to  pass  from  comedy  to  buffoonery.  In  the  effort 
to  make  his  image  really  frightful  the  primitive  worker 
displayed  unique  ingenuity.  Yet  in  his  dancing  masks 
it  is  still  the  symbol  rather  than  the  actual  form  that 
inspires  fear.  Instead  of  putting  a  "keep  out"  sign 
on  his  grain  storehouse  the  New  Zealand  Maori 
carves  the  house  with  symbols  calculated  to  strike 
terror  to  the  heart  of  evil  prowlers.  Figure  76  is  a 
dancing  mask  from  Nigeria  and  Figure  77  a  wooden 
image  from  Nicobar  Islands.  These  latter  people 
strike   close   to  the   extreme   limit   of  the   grotesque, 


146     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

with  their  wooden  images  smeared  with  paint.  The 
primitive  man  carves  a  grotesque  figure  on  the  prow 
of  his  canoe  or  paints  one  on  his  shield,  not  to  scare 


tC3> 


his  enemy  but  to  taunt  him  with  a  symbol  proclaim- 
ing his  fearlessness. 

Again,  much  that  we  deem  as  quaint  was  doubtless 


THE    PLAY   IMPULSE 


H7 


the  result  of  technical  limitations  and  incomplete 
observation.  In  Figure  78,  for  instance,  a  figure  from 
the  front  of  Saint  Andrea  in 
Pistoja,  it  may  be  assumed  that 
most  of  the  quaintness  is  due 
to  incomplete  observation  and 
clumsiness  of  execution.  We 
can  easily  find  in  our  art  schools 
and  studios  hundreds  of  students 
who  can  draw  or  model  a  figure 
more  truthful  in  proportions  and  with 
more  grace  of  action  than  did  this  old 
carver.  But  there  are  comparatively  few 
who  will  ever  speak  out  with  such  virile 
strength,  vigor,  and  enthusiasm.  There 
are  many  who  spend  years  in  the  train- 
ing of  observation  and  in  the  acquisition 
of  technical  skill  who  have  nothing  to  ^^^'  77-  ^'^^i^ 
say  that  is  worth  while,  nothing  that  touches  human 
activity  at  any  point.  To  this  old  craftsman  technique 
was  merely  a  means  to  an  end.  He  had  something  to 
say,  an  idea  to  express,  and  struggled  with  his  limitations 
as  best  he  could.  "  If  you  would  have  the  thought  of 
a  rude,  untaught  man,  you  must  have  it  in  a  rough  and 
untaught  way,  —  but  get  the  thought,  and  do  not 
silence  the  peasant  because  he  cannot  speak  good 
grammar  or  until  you  have  taught  him  his  grammar. 


148     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

Look  for  invention  first,  and  for  such  execution  as  will 
help  invention." 

It  is  a  long  way  from  the  rudely  carved  Christ  in 


Fig.  78. 


Figure  79  to  that  other  Christ  that  stands  at  the  portal 
of  Amiens.  Yet  each  was  sufficient  in  its  time  and 
place,  and  each  represented  the  best  effort  of  the 
worker. 

In  Figure  80  is  an  old  Benin  savage's  representa- 
tion of  one  of  his  European  conquerors.     How  closely 


•^'■:M.h 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE 


149 


it  resembles  that  other  bronze  figure  made  in  Sardinia 
many  centuries  before.  Uncouth  and  barbarous,  we 
insist.  Nothing  of  the  kind  !  It 
is  charmingly  frank  and  genuine, 
full  of  character  and  action.  Every 
line  tells  of  the  honest  pride  which 
the  workman  found  in  making  it. 
Moreover,  supposing  the  average 
person  of  to-day  were  to  attempt 
to  model  in  clay  his  impression  of 
a  man  on  horseback  !  Ten  to  one 
it  would  be  incoherent,  without  half 
the  interest  or  character  to  be  found 
in  this  one.  Our  ideals  are  so  vague 
and  indefinite  that  we  cannot  work 
them  out  at  our  finger  tips.  It  is 
easy  to  criticize  the  work  of  an-  \\ 
other ;  but  few  of  us  dare  try  for 
ourselves.  "  The  step  from  know- 
ing to  doing  is  rarely  taken.*' 

As  art  products  these  things  may 
be  relatively  unimportant;  but  if 
we  would  penetrate  below  the  sur- 
face of  many  things  which  we  pass  as  rude  and  uncouth, 
and  seek  the  spirit  of  enthusiasm  that  prompted  men 
to  speak  out  with  such  skill  as  they  possessed,  we  might 
find  a  deeply  interesting  story  in  unimportant  things. 


Fig.  79. 


150     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


It  is  what  men  have  to  say,  the  strength  of  their  emotions 
and  the  clearness  of  their  assertions,  that  makes  art  vital, 
rather  than  skillful  technique  and  fine  finish. 

Much  that  we  pass  as  uncouth  has  within  it  a  poten- 
tial force  which  we  fail  to  grasp,  —  imagination.     If  we 


Betzia.  Africa."*   Rvrprese-ntatlon.  of 

SiM-'diRicrz.  Broaze  •  DowmAJ-a. 
(from.  Perrot    dad  Ch.ip!ei) 


Fig.  80. 


scratch  the  surface  of  many  rude  things,  we  shall  find 
an  imaginative  force,  deep,  intense,  real.  Many  of  the 
mediaeval  workers,  who  did  common  things  uncom- 
monly well,  found  a  wider  range  for  their  imaginative 
power  in  later  life  in  the  production  of  important  works 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE  151 

of  art.  The  master  designer  has  ever  been  the  man  to 
whom  many  childhood  fancies  have  tenaciously  clung. 
The  broadening  activities  of  a  later  life  have  never  been 
quite  strong  enough  to  drive  all  of  the  fairies  from  the 
grass,  or  to  dispel  the  voices  that  laugh  and  whisper 
with  the  winds  in  the  tree  tops.  He  designs  in  words 
and  we  call  him  a  poet ;  in  tones,  a  musician  ;  in  color, 
a  painter ;  in  form,  a  sculptor.  And  to  whatever  task 
he  turns  his  hand,  there  appears  in  his  work  a  touch 
that  we  feel  but  cannot  analyze,  that  finds  a  responsive 
chord  within  us,  that  brings  light  to  the  eye,  and  a  sense 
of  satisfaction  to  the  mind.  We  sometimes  call  it  per- 
sonality ;  it  is  in  reality  the  soul  of  his  work,  that  which 
remains  after  all  else  has  been  weighed  and  classified. 
It  is  the  force  of  imagination  that  imparts  life  and 
animation  to  a  Gothic  cathedral.  And,  per  contra,  it 
is  the  utter  lack  of  imagination  that  makes  all  modern 
adaptations  of  Gothic  architecture  incapable  of  awaken- 
ing a  spark  of  enthusiasm.  One  returns  to  the  old 
cathedral  day  after  day,  and  each  visit  reveals  new 
beauty ;  even  away  back  in  cobwebbed  corners  one 
comes  upon  the  "soul  stuff"  of  some  humble,  worka- 
day fellow  who  wrought  in  the  same  spirit  and  with 
the  same  sincerity  of  purpose  as  the  master  who  built 
the  pulpit  or  frescoed  the  chapels.  But  in  our  modern 
adaptations  there  is  neither  interest  nor  reason  in  the 
arbitrary  disposition  of  details  in  cement  and  plaster. 


152     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

in  papier-mache  and  cast  iron.  We  have  a  husk  with- 
out meat ;  a  body  into  which  no  soul  can  be  conjured 
to  take  its  abode. 

It  is  the  spirit  of  enthusiasm,  of  love,  of  pleasure  in 
work,  that  gives  to  mediaeval  art  the  most  fascinating 
aspect  of  any  period  in  art  history.  We  are  brought 
close  to  the  hearts  of  a  multitude  of  simple,  honest, 
workaday  craftsmen  who  imparted  to  their  work  a 
significance  and  vitality  that  made  it  a  real  factor  in 
daily  life.  The  sphere  of  art  was  sufficiently  broad  to 
encompass  any  task  to  which  a  man  might  turn  his 
hand ;  nothing,  from  a  cathedral  to  a  candlestick,  was 
too  trivial  or  unimportant  to  be  given  its  touch  of  dis- 
tinctive beauty.  It  was  an  age  of  what  we  now  term 
industrial  art ;  but  then  there  was  no  other  kind  of  art. 
Our  modern  phrase  of "  art  for  art's  sake  ''  was  un- 
known either  in  theory  or  in  practice.  It  was  a  time 
when  "  any  village  mason  could  build  a  church  and 
any  village  carpenter  could  crown  it  with  a  hammer- 
beam  roof."  What  the  work  of  the  early  craftsmen 
lacked  in  refinement  and  polish  was  more  than  com- 
pensated for  in  its  vigorous  grasp  of  essentials,  in  its 
truth  and  unaffected  invention,  and,  above  all  else,  in 
the  fact  that  its  appeal  was  comprehended  by  all.  We 
have  been  too  much  inclined  to  look  upon  art  as  a  cul- 
tural asset.  The  practice  of  art  has  been  left  to  a  few, 
professionally  trained  in  complete  isolation  from  the 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE  153 

practical,  industrial  problems  of  life.  It  was  once  the 
glory  of  art  to  be  of  service.  It  is  difficult  for  us  to 
fully  realize  the  spirit  of  an  age  when  art  was  actually 
practiced  by  a  great  mass  of  people ;  when  carvers  in 
stone  and  wood,  workers  in  iron,  textile  weavers,  potters, 
goldsmiths,  found  daily  opportunity  and  incentive  to 
bring  invention  to  bear  upon  their  problems,  to  apply 
creative  thought  to  the  work  of  their  hands.  It  was  a 
time  when  builders  were  architects  ;  when  workmen 
were  designers  ;  when  contracts  called  for  nothing  more 
than  sound  materials  and  honest  workmanship, — the  art 
was  thrown  in  as  a  matter  of  course.  Our  modern 
craft  workers  expect  unreasonable  prices  for  unimpor- 
tant productions  because  "  the  design  is  original  and  will 
not  be  duplicated."  What  was  once  the  rule  is  now 
the  exception. 

The  training  received  by  the  mediaeval  craftsman 
was  peculiar  to  the  guild  system  of  the  time.  Many 
of  the  masters  whose  names  are  familiar  to  us  now  in 
our  study  of  the  history  of  art  were  duly  apprenticed 
to  a  craft  as  soon  as  they  could  read,  write,  and  count. 
Often  at  an  age  of  ten  years  they  went  to  the  home  of 
the  master  workman,  with  whom  their  apprenticeship 
was  to  be  served,  where,  as  was  the  custom  of  the 
time,  they  lived.  The  years  of  apprenticeship  were 
years  of  hard  work,  often  of  drudgery ;  but  in  the 
great  variety  of  commissions  undertaken  by  the  shops 


154     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

of  the  time  an  opportunity  was  presented  to  lend  a 
hand  at  many  interesting  tasks.  There  seems  to  have 
been  a  spirit  of  cooperation  among  the  various  shops 
and  workmen  that  the  keen,  relentless  competition  of 
modern  times  does  not  permit. 

After  serving  his  apprenticeship  a  lad  became  a 
companion  or  journeyman  worker,  and  finally  tried 
for  his  degree,  if  it  may  be  so  termed,  by  submitting 
to  examination  for  the  title  of  master  workman.  In 
this  examination  he  was  called  upon  not  only  to  pro- 
duce his  masterpiece,  but  to  fashion  such  tools  of  his 
craft  as  were  necessary  for  its  completion.  The  stand- 
ards of  the  guilds  were  so  high  that  to  become  a 
master  meant  the  production  of  a  piece  of  work  satis- 
factory to  the  judges  artistically  as  well  as  technically. 
This  completed  the  education  of  a  craftsman  of  the 
time,  producing  a  workman  who  was  encouraged  at 
every  step  of  his  training  to  combine  beauty  with 
utihty,  technical  skill  with  honest  workmanship.  The 
competition  was  for  excellence  as  much  as  for  gain, 
and  the  greatest  masters  were  simple  and  frugal  of 
habit,  finding  more  satisfaction  in  producing  work 
that  people  were  proud  to  possess  than  in  "  the  pay 
envelope." 

From  stories  left  by  Boccaccio,  Vasari,  and  others, 
and  from  documents  found  in  ancient  archives,  we 
can   penetrate   into   those   old-time  workshops,    pass 


THE   PLAY  IMPULSE  155 

back  into  the  busy  workaday  life  of  the  times  where 
art  was  produced  by  men  with  tools  in  their  hands. 
The  greater  number  of  the  master  craftsmen  are  not 
known,  or  at  best  their  names  are  unfamiliar  except 
to  students  of  musty  records.  Most  of  those  whose 
names  are  familiar  to  students  of  art  history  served 
their  apprenticeships  in  the  shops  of  the  goldsmiths, 
—  Orcagna,  Ghirlandajo,  Botticelli,  Lucca  della  Rob- 
bia,  Ghiberti,  Donatello,  Brunelleschi,  —  and  when 
they  in  turn  became  master  workmen,  we  know  not 
whether  to  call  them  goldsmiths  or  bronze  workers, 
carvers  or  sculptors,  painters  or  architects,  for  their 
training  was  such  that  they  could  turn  their  hands  to 
any  of  these  with  distinction.  Orcagna  could  build  a 
church,  cut  the  stone,  lay  the  mosaics,  paint  the  fres- 
coes, or  carve  the  crucifix,  and  we  know  not  where  most 
to  admire  him.  While  Ghiberti  was  engaged  in  the 
production  of  the  bronze  doors  for  the  Florentine  bap- 
tistry, his  journeymen  workers  were  seldom  so  early  at 
the  foundry  but  that  they  found  him  there  in  his  cap 
and  apron.  Brunelleschi  watched  the  building  of  the 
cathedral  from  his  bench  long  before  he  dreamed  that 
it  would  be  his  part  to  crown  it  with  its  great  dome ; 
and  when  he  and  Donatello  went  to  Rome  to  study 
the  antique,  they  replenished  their  empty  purses  by 
following  their  craft.  What  manner  of  architects 
were  these  who  went  to  the  quarry  and  picked  out 


156     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

their  own  stones,  who  superintended  the  construc- 
tion, directed  the  erection  of  scaffolds,  who  could  teach 
others  how  to  lay  the  mosaics  or  carve  the  ornament ; 
and  during  leisure  intervals  wrote  sonnets,  built 
bridges,  planned  forts,  and  invented  weapons  of  de- 
fense ?  When  a  master  received  a  commission  to 
build  a  church,  a  municipal  palace,  a  fountain,  or 
what  not,  he  took  with  him  his  own  journeymen  and 
apprentices ;  and  when  the  commission  was  an  impor- 
tant one,  he  gathered  about  him  to  cooperate,  in  a  spirit 
that  knew  little  of  rivalry  or  jealousy,  the  best  master 
workers  of  his  day. 

Problem.  Our  problem  may  seem  at  first  thought 
to  be  one  of  amusement  only ;  but  a  conscientious 
effort  to  solve  it  will  soon  indicate  that  it  has  other 
claims  of  a  serious  nature, — in  fact  the  mental  disci- 
pline involved  in  its  solution  would  sufficiently  justify 
it.  It  is  a  fitting  test  of  one's  ability  to  think  in  terms 
of  line  and  form,  and  to  turn  the  limitations  imposed 
to  the  best  possible  purpose.  Previous  to  this  we 
have  brought  a  suggestion  of  Nature  to  the  lines  and 
forms  employed  under  given  limitations ;  Nature  has 
been  an  incident,  a  symbol.  Now,  under  the  same 
limitations  as  regards  the  directions  of  lines,  working 
to  the  same  end,  it  is  the  intention  to  go  directly  to 
Nature,  choose  a  particular  type,  translate  it  into 
straight  lines,  adapt  it  to  our  purpose    without    los- 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE 


157 


ing  its  individuality  or  unique  character.  It  is  the 
purpose  to  seek  a  happy  middle  ground  between 
Nature  and  the  geometric  basis  on  which  the  work  has 
developed,  to  retain  the  distinctive  character  of  a  nat- 
ural form  without  sacrificing  the  distinctive  character 
that  claims  interest  from  a  design  point  of  view.     A 


Fig.  81. 


reasonable  knowledge  or  observation  of  animal  anatomy 
is,  of  course,  essential ;  with  such  facts  of  observation 
at  hand,  together  with  a  spice  of  imagination  and  a 
sense  of  humor,  the  limitations  of  the  squared  paper 
will  be  found  more  interesting  than  if  greater  liberty 
were  allowed.  Figure  81  indicates  the  general  charac- 
ter of  the  results  that  might  be  expected  from  practice 


158     DESIGN  IN  THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

with  the  pencil,  —  not  from  a  few  moments  of  playful 
practice,  but  from  several  hours  of  thoughtful  study. 
Do  not  try  to  be  archaic  or  rude;  you  will  fail.  Do 
the  best  you  can  under  the  conditions  of  the  problem. 
The  naive  rudeness  of  primitive  work  charms  us ;  but  to 
imitate  it  is  pure  affectation,  and  will  generally  appear 
as  such.  The  primitive  worker  did  the  best  that  he 
could  for  Nature ;  his  feeling  for  design  dominated  his 
records  of  observation.  He  was  always  sincere ;  his 
quaint  symbols  had  a  real  meaning  and  purpose,  their 
forms  were  generally  due  to  the  influence  of  the  tools 
and  materials  through  which  his  ideas  received  direct 
expression. 

Figures  82,  83,  84  show  the  end  sought  in  the  prob- 
lem, a  balance  of  attractive  forces  in  symmetry  within 
an  inclosing   form.     Four  points   should  be  kept  in 

mind  :  the  figures 
must  be  related  or- 
ganically to  the  in- 
closing form,  not 
look  as  if  they  were 
merely  fenced  in 
^^°*  ^*-  with  a  line  ;  the  two 

parts  of  the  symmetry  should  be  bound  together  by  as 
many  rhythmic  connections  of  line  as  possible,  —  the 
line  analysis  in  Figure  84  will  serve  as  an  illustration ; 
the  shapes  and  measures  of  the  areas  of  black  and 


THE  PLAY  IMPULSE 


159 


white  must  be  given  equal  attention,  —  an  approximate 
balance  of  the  two  in  quantity  will  be  found  most  effec- 


FiG.  83. 

tive  ;  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  space  between  the 
two  farts  of  a  symmetry  forms  a  strong  attractive  force 
in  the  design  whether  we  wish  it  or  not,  —  it  should  be 
studied^  not  left  to  accident.  It  requires  no  skill  or 
thought  to  "  fence  in  "  an  example  of  symmetry  ;  but 


Fig.  84. 


there  is  ample  exercise  for  both  skill  and  thought  in 
the  problem  as  stated.  Figure  85  is  quite  in  line  with 
this  problem  and  illustrates  the  points  enumerated 
above. 

Let  us  now  note  the  constructive  application  of  a 
motif  such  as  we  have  been  using,  —  a  match  safe  to 


i6o     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

hang  upon  the  wall  (Plate  27).  A  match  safe  is  chosen 
merely  because  it  offers  a  convenient  means  of  empha- 
sizing the  relation  between  theory  and  practice,  be- 
tween our  abstract  problems  and  constructive  designing. 
It  serves  to  show  once  more  the  interplay  between  aes- 


Peruvi&a*  Claiy 


Coptic  •"TbctiU 


Fig.  85. 

thetic  and  practical  principles.  The  essential  elements 
are  of  first  importance  (Figure  86).  There  must  be  a 
receptacle  for  the  matches.  It  may  be  vertical  (i),  or 
horizontal  (ii),  its  inside  dimensions  to  be  determined 
by  the  length  of  a  match.  If  in  a  vertical  position,  the 
dimensions  of  the  box  should  be  so  planned  that  a 
single  match  will  not  fall  too  far  below  the  top. 
There  must  be  a  piece  of  sandpaper,  a  back   piece. 


PLATE  27. 

Constructive  Designing. 


s^ 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE 


i6i 


with  a  hole  at  the  top  for  the  nail  or  hook  on  which 
the  match  safe  is  to  be  hung.  These  structural  ele- 
ments should  form  the  basis  for  the  design ;  they  are 


Fig.  86. 


demanded  by  utility.  The  material  employed  may  be 
wood.  Two  combative  black  cats  seem  appropriate  as 
a  decorative  motif.     The  problem  is  now  clear  in  its 

M 


1 62     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

development.  We  must  first  define  the  positions  and 
relative  proportions  of  the  essential  elements.  The 
sandpaper  may  be  on  the  box  (iii),  or  below  (iv),  but 
not  above  it  (v),  because  the  matches  within  the  box 
would  be  in  danger  of  ignition.  The  scheme  may  be 
planned  horizontally  (vi),  in  which  case  two  holes  at 
the  top  would  seem  advisable.  We  have  now  to  at- 
tempt a  refinement  of  the  structural  elements  and  such 
an  adaptation  of  the  decorative  motif  that  it  shall  be 
organically  related  in  line  and  form  to  those  elements 
in  a  unity  of  effect.  For  the  sake  of  simplicity,  let  us 
first  discuss  the  steps  involved  in  a  refinement  of  the 
essential  elements.  There  are  several  errors  which  it 
would  be  well  to  anticipate.  The  first  is  in  vii.  Here 
there  is  no  reciprocal  relation  between  the  curved  lines 
of  the  back  piece  and  the  rectangular  box.  In  viii  the 
box  is  supported  by  the  parallel  side  lines ;  but  there 
are  three  weak  points  in  this  arrangement.  There  is 
not  enough  difference  between  the  top  and  bottom  of 
the  design:  the  curves  indicated  by  the  arrow  tend  to 
lead  the  eye  away  from  the  center  of  interest ;  the  di- 
vision of  the  top  into  three  equal  parts  is  unfortunate, 
giving  a  result  which  lacks  variety  in  proportions.  In 
ix  the  second  error  is  corrected  —  the  curves  keep  the 
eye  within  the  inclosing  form.  But  there  is  another  criti- 
cism here.  At  the  points  marked  by  the  crosses  the 
curves  should  be  either  continuous  or  the  angles  should 


DO  £ 


^    <5 


^ 


s 


PLATE  30. 

Squared  Animals  in  Rectangle. 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE  163 

be  more  acute.  In  x,  xi,  xii,  xiii  are  suggestions  giv- 
ing variety  with  unity  in  the  lines  and  proportions 
used.  Now,  with  these  criticisms  in  mind,  let  us  re- 
turn to  the  point  of  the  problem,  the  organic  relation 
of  the  lines  of  the  decorative  motif  to  the  structural 
elements.  In  xiv~xv  are  two  sketches  showing  the 
adjustment  of  the  proportions  and  the  interrelation  of 
all  the  lines  of  the  design.  These  sketches  emphasize 
the  necessity  of  working  from  the  whole  to  the  parts. 
Ornament  should  never  be  added  as  an  afterthought; 
it  must  always  be  developed  with,  and  related  to,  the 
constructive  elements  of  a  problem. 

Problem.  It  would  be  difficult  to  devise  a  prob- 
lem demanding  clearer  thinking  than  this  one.  Any 
student  who  has  an  idea  that  it  is  nothing  more 
than  the  repetition  of  a  "  squared  animal  "  should  go 
back  to  the  first  problem  of  this  series  and  take  a  fresh 
start.  It  requires  the  exercise  of  a  wholesome  play 
impulse  under  the  restraint  of  orderly  design.  It 
seems  unnecessary  to  recite  again  the  conditions  and 
limitations  of  the  preceding  problems  as  applied  to 
this  one  ;  mentality  may  be  assumed.  Study  Figures 
87,  88,  89,  and  Plates  a8,  29  30,  in  the  light  of  past 
experience;  they  are  dark  and  light,  space  and  mass, 
designs  with  additional  interest  imparted  to  them  from 
Nature  through  the  imagination  of  the  worker.  Figure 
90,  as  well  as  Figure  81,  may  serve  as  the  starting  point. 


i64     DESIGN    IN    THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

Incidentally  it  may  be    remarked  that,  these    figures 
being  flat  conventions,  no   perspective  should  be  at- 


FlG.  87. 


tempted  ;  the  feet,  for  example,  should  be  on  the  same 


Fig.  88. 


level,  if  the  creature  is  walking,  as  in  the  first  four 
instances   of  Figure   90.      Figure   91    shows   various 


THE   PLAY  IMPULSE 


i6s 


Fig.  89. 


1 66     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

experiments  with  one  of  these  forms  in  an  effort  to 
secure  the  best  expression  for  sake  of  the  design. 
Experience,  assurance  of  judgment,  may  be  hoped  for 


on  the  basis  of  many  experiments  and  comparisons. 
The  willingness  to  experiment  must  be  accepted  as 
part  of  a  student's  equipment  for  serious  study  ;  it  is 
the  faculty  that  remains  dissatisfied  until  the  best 
possible  expression  of  an  idea  has  been  demonstrated. 
In  this  case  the  final  example  may  be  accepted  .as  giv- 
ing the  most  interesting  and  complete  relation  of  the 
different  elements  involved  in  the  problem.  As  a 
final,  though  important,  item  of  interest  it  may  be 
said  that  in  a  design  of  this  character  the  creatures 
should  be  doing  something,  going  somewhere ;  they 
should  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  fun,  not  stand 
dumbly  in  a  row  as  if  waiting  to  be  shot  at. 


PLATE  31. 
Peruvian.  Textile.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


THE   PLAY   IMPULSE 


167 


In  the  textiles  of  the  primitive  Peruvian  weavers 
(Figure  92  and  Plate  31)  is  a  close  approach  to  our 
problem.     There   is  a  simple   and   effective   use   of 


Fig.  91. 

animal  life  to  be  found  in  all  of  this  work.  The  par- 
ticular forms  are  sometimes  apparent;  again,  they 
become    abstract    symbols,    as    in    Plate    31.       But 


1 68     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND    PRACTICE 


Fig.  92. 


PLATE  32. 
Fii-teenth-Century  Textile  — Italian.     (South  Kensington  Museum.) 


THE    PLAY   IMPULSE  169 

as  designs  they  are  invariably  good.  The  student  of 
design  can  find  no  more  fertile  field  of  suggestion  at 
this  stage  than  a  collection  of  Peruvian  art,  or  from  a 
close  study  of  illustrations  of  such  work.  The  Peru- 
vians were  designers  of  consummate  ability,  shrewd 
observation;  were  endowed  with  a  keen  imagination, 
that  play  impulse  which  makes  art  a  joy  alike  to  the 
one  who  practices  it  and  the  one  who  studies  it.  In 
their  textiles  those  weavers  very  frequently  employed 
the  exact  duf)lication  of  space  and  mass  known  as 
counterchange. 

Plate  32,   a  fifteenth-century   textile  from  Italy,  is 
also  a  close  and  interesting  approach  to  this  problem. 


CHAPTER   IX 

The  Idea  and  Nature 

"  There  is  little  in  nature  that  is  ready  made  to  the 
hand  of  the  artist.  A  masterpiece  of  art  is  what  it  is  in 
virtue  of  a  something  which  was  not  in  the  natural  motif  of 
the  artist,  but  in  his  treatment  of  it.'* — Lewis  F.  Day. 

IF  we  look  back  upon  the  history  of  design,  it  will 
be  found  that  the  use  of  plant  form  through  what 
is  generally  termed  conventionalization  followed 
upon  long  practice  in  the  arts.  Plant  form  in  design 
has  almost  invariably  been  the  last  to  suggest  motifs 
to  the  worker.  The  development  was  much  the  same 
at  the  dawn  of  history  as  among  the  American  Indians 
of  to-day.  The  first  designs  were  those  that  arose 
through  technique  ;  the  first  appeal  from  Nature  was 
through  animate  life  and  through  significant  symbols 
of  natural  forces.  It  is  not  until  men  have  passed  a 
long  way  through  barbarism  into  a  higher  state  of  cul- 
ture that  one  finds  an  attempt  to  directly  convention- 
alize plant  form.  It  is  not  necessary  that  the  student 
in  his  own  work  should  pass  through  all  the  stages  of 
primitive  art  and  barbarism  ;  to  attempt  it  would  be  an 

170 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE  171 

affectation.  But  the  principle  involved  in  the  historic 
development  of  design  is  important  in  the  application 
to  the  individual  student.  This  principle,  in  so  far  as 
it  seems  applicable,  is  followed  through  the  problems 
of  this  book.  It  is  the  writer*s  belief  that  the  direct 
conventionalization  of  plant  life  should  follow  upon 
long-continued  study  of  principles. 

To  conventionalize  Nature  is  to  adapt  a  nature- 
derived  motif  to  the  structural  demands  of  a  problem, 
to  the  space  and  position  which  it  is  to  occupy,  to  the 
tools,  materials,  and  processes  of  execution.  A  man 
who  has  a  thorough  command  over  the  technique  of 
his  craft,  who  possesses  a  refined  feeling,  good  judg- 
ment, and  common  sense  will  inevitably  turn  to  Nature 
for  suggestion.  If  he  has  an  appreciation  of  the  ele- 
mentary principles  of  line,  form,  and  tone  adjustment, 
acquired  through  persistent  observation  and  experi- 
ment, he  may  be  expected  to  adapt  Nature  to  his  pur- 
poses in  a  logical  and  consistent  way.  A  paper-trained 
student  who  begins  by  seeking  ideas  in  Nature  and 
who  essays  the  production  of  designs  for  wall  papers 
that  are  never  printed,  textiles  that  are  never  woven, 
iron  that  is  never  forged,  tiles  that  are  never  fired,  with 
only  a  superficial  knowledge  of  the  tools,  materials, 
processes,  and  constructive  demands  of  these  industries, 
cannot  be  expected  to  find  in  the  word  convention- 
alization any  other  significance  than  that  involved  in 


172 


DESIGN   IN   THEORY    AND    PRACTICE 


the  more  or  less  formal  rendering  of  a  natural  speci- 
men. The  most  interesting  conventionalization  is 
found  in  the  work  of  a  trained  craftsman  who  turns  to 
Nature  for  a  suggestion  that  will  impart  life  and  anima- 
tion to  the  refinement  and  enrichment  of  his  problem. 
He  can  get  along  very  well  and  produce  beautiful  work 
without  Nature ;  but  with  Nature  as  an  ally  he  finds 

his  imaginative  and 
inventive  faculties 
stimulated  and 
strengthened  many 
fold. 

His  treatment  of 
the  motif  which  he 
seeks  may  be  such 
as  is  shown  in  the 
first  example  of  Fig- 
ure 93,  or  such  as  is 
shown  in  the  second 
example  of  this  fig- 
ure. They  were  both 
^^^'  93-  suggested     by     the 

wild  teasel.  One  treatment  is  neither  more  nor  less 
commendable  than  the  other,  and  any  information  as  to 
the  source  from  which  the  suggestions  were  derived  is 
quite  immaterial  in  a  discussion  of  the  results.  We  can 
form  no  judgment  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  the  two 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE  173 

designs  until  we  see  them  in  position  on  the  construc- 
tive problems  of  which  they  were  merely  structural  ele- 
ments. Each  was  adapted  and  related  to  a  constructive 
whole  which  led  to  distinctly  different  treatments  of  a 
suggestion  derived  from  the  same  source.  As  the  de- 
signs stand,  in  this  isolated  form,  there  are  but  three 
questions  to  be  asked  :  Is  each  adapted  to  the  tools  and 
processes  peculiar  to  metal  working  ?  Is  each  thought- 
fully arranged  in  its  line  and  form,  space  and  mass  ?  Is 
each  consistent  throughout  in  its  treatment  ?  It  would 
be  inconsistent  to  place  the  formal,  symmetrical  ending 
of  the  second  on  the  rhythmic,  flowing  lines  of  the  first. 
The  truth  of  this  is  so  evident  that  it  would  seem  un- 
necessary to  mention  it ;  yet  we  find  this  simple  prin- 
ciple, consistency  of  treatment,  so  often  violated  that 
its  emphasis  never  ceases  to  be  desirable. 

In  the  first  example  a  rough,  blocking-out  sketch  is 
shown  of  the  relation  of  lines,  which  was  established 
after  the  shape  and  measure  of  the  hinge  as  an  element 
in  the  design,  and  the  style  of  treatment  were  deter- 
mined. A  rhythmic  relation  of  lines  and  forms  was 
desired;  common  sense  and  the  material  employed 
demanded  that  all  the  loose  ends  of  the  design  be 
bound  together  into  a  compact  whole.  The  question 
of  space  and  mass  adjustment  was  decided,  partly  by 
the  application  of  elementary  principles  of  composition, 
partly  by  the  saw  and  file. 


174     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


The  amount  of  conventionalization  that  is  given  to 

a  nature-derived  motif,  then, 
is  not  in  itself  a  basis  on 
which  any  judgment  may 
be  formed  as  to  the  merit 
of  the  result.  We  may 
prefer  the  highly  conven- 
tionalized symbols  of  the 
primitive  weavers,  or  the  less 
conventional  treatment  of 
Nature  to  be  found  in  the 
Oriental  textiles.  In  either 
case  we  can  form  an  ade- 
quate judgment  of  the  re- 
sults only  on  the  basis  of 
line,  form,  and  tone  adjust- 
ment, and  on  the  technique 
involved  in  the  weaver's 
craft. 

In  Figure  94  is  a  pen 
sketch  of  a  Chinese  lily. 
In  one  sense  even  this 
sketch  is  conventional  in 
treatment ;  it  is  an  adapta- 
tion of  Nature  to  the  tech- 
FiG.  94.  nique  peculiar  to  pen-and- 

ink  rendering.     Its  interest,  however,  is  in  light,  shade. 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE  175 

and  texture,  in  the  transient  qualities  which  Nature 
has  imparted  to  the  Chinese  lily.  It  is  obviously 
unfit,  in  its  present  form,  for  purposes  of  design. 
Whether  one  prefers  a  naturalistic  treatment  in  design 
or  a  formal,  geometric  treatment  is  immaterial.  The 
essential  point  is  that  it  is  necessary  to  alter,  rearrange, 
or  in  some  way  adapt  the  lines  and  forms  here  shown 
before  they  are  suited  to  our  purpose.  The  style  or 
character  in  a  design  is  the  result  of  the  treatment 
accorded  the  motif  The  character  which  comes  from 
treatment  is,  as  we  have  seen,  dependent  upon  the 
adjustment  of  several  correlated  questions.  For  the 
sake  of  simplicity  we  have  isolated  one  of  those  ques- 
tions for  purposes  of  study.  We  are  aiming  at  an 
appreciation  of  the  aesthetic  interest  of  a  beauty  that 
is  expressed  in  abstract  lines,  forms,  and  tones,  and 
of  the  application  of  some  of  the  principles  thus  defined 
to  constructive  problems  ;  simple  problems  indeed,  but 
such  as  may  be  assumed  to  be  somewhat  within  reach 
of  our  experience. 

In  the  specimen  shown  we  may  find,  in  its  typical 
growth  and  unique  character,  material  for  our  ends; 
or  we  may  seek  in  an  analysis  of  its  parts,  bud,  leaf,  or 
flower,  a  suitable  motif.  But  one  thing  is  surely  clear. 
If  we  cannot  use  the  transient  beauty  with  which  Na- 
ture has  endowed  this  flower,  we  must  in  our  treat- 
ment of  the  motif  impart  to    the   work  a  beauty  of 


176     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

another  sort.  Here,  as  in  all  things,  Nature  furnishes 
the  raw  material,  but  leaves  it  to  man  to  convert  this 
material  to  his  needs  by  such  processes  as  he  may  in- 
vent. It  is  a  long  step  from  the  tree  that  grows  in 
the  forest,  or  the  unquarried  stone  in  the  hills,  to  the 
houses  in  which  we  live.     While  Nature  may  furnish  the 

raw    material,    she 


does  not  furnish 
ready-made  designs, 
and  will  baffle  our 
efforts  to  find  in  her 
the  clew  to  a  beau- 
tiful design.  The 
last  is  our  part  in 
the  problem.  The 
beauty  which  we  give 
to  design  must  come 
from  within  us;  it 
cannot  be  found  in 
a  study  of  the  specimen,  however  painstaking  or  ana- 
lytical that  study  may  be. 

In  Figure  95  is  a  treatment  of  a  Chinese  lily  that 
may  claim  to  be  decorative  in  character.  A  specimen 
has  been  employed  to  express  a  definite  idea  with  no 
other  change  than  the  elimination  of  realistic  details. 
That  idea  was  the  decorative  distribution  of  areas  of 
black  and  white  within  a  rectangle  to  secure  interesting 


Fig.  95. 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE 


177 


space  and  mass  relations.  To  give  decorative  character 
to  a  flower  motif,  then,  is  not  merely  to  stiffen  its 
growth  into  formal  lines  or  to  ^^ 

place  it  in  a  strait-jacket,  but  to  Mmk 

adapt  it  to  the  requirements  of  ^ 

a  definite  idea.  Let  us  take  an 
idea  to  Nature,  —  not  seek  an 
idea  in  Nature. 


In  Figures  96,  \  ^n 


97  another  idea 
has  found  ex- 
pression. Here 
the  lily  has  served 
as  a  basis  for  an 
interest    that    is 

yc^^^  ll/^  dependent      en- 

\^^tW{S  ^  tirely  on  the  rhythmic  and  balanced 
relation  of  lines  and  forms.  The  results 
are  sufficiently  like  the  lily  to  demand  a 
consistent  adherence  to  Nature's  laws  of 
growth  ;  but  to  judge  the  beauty  of  the 
results  we  must  revert  to  the  idea  which 
the  lines  and  forms  express,  not  to  the 
motif  from  which  they  were  derived. 
In  Figure  98  is  a  line  drawing  of  a  single  flower, 

with   two  symmetrical  renderings  of  that  flower,    one 

in  curved  lines,  the  other  in  straight  lines.     In  the  two 


Fig.  97. 


178     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

latter  cases  an  effort  was  made  to  relate  the  petals  to 
the  center  and  to  give  some  element  of  variety  in  shapes 
and  measures  to  the  areas  into  which  the  flower  was 
divided.  Beyond  this,  these  conventions  have  no  par- 
ticular merit  or  distinction ;  in  fact,  we  may  well  prefer 
the  first  sketch  to  either  of  the  others.     They  should 


T 


Fig.  98. 


be  produced  by  any  one  who  has  an  understanding  of 
the  simplest  of  the  elementary  principles  noted  in  the 
first  chapter  of  this  book.  But  these  two  conventions 
were  made  with  a  definite  purpose  in  mind,  —  an  appli- 
cation to  a  repeated  design.  In  the  completion  of  the 
idea  may  be  found  a  justification  for  the  treatment 
accorded  the  flower. 

In  Figure  99  the  unit  shown  in  Figure  96  is  re- 
peated at  regular  intervals,  with  a  rhythmic,  graceful 
movement  from  unit  to  unit.  The  design  furnishes  a 
pattern  that  is  pleasing  in  character  ;  it  is  an  obvious 
and  simple  repetition  of  a  unit  interesting  in  itself,  in 
which  Nature  was  subordinated  to  a  definite  idea.  As 
a  surface  pattern  it  demanded  a  comparatively  small 


PLATE  33. 
Nature  Derivatives. 


« 


PLATE  34. 
Nature  Derivatives. 


^ 


THE   IDEA   AND    NATURE 


179 


amount  of  skill,  however.  The  importance  of  a  design 
increases  in  ratio  to  the  number  and  variety  of  elements 
that  have  been  disciplined  into  a  unity  of  effect.     In 


Fig.  99. 


Plates  23 y  34  are  surface  patterns  that  demanded  more 
skill  and  a  greater  concentration  of  thought.  While 
Figure  99  involves  the  mere  repetition  at  regular  inter- 


i8o     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

vals  of  a  pleasing  unit,  these  two  plates  represent  the 
deliberate  building  up  of  a  surface  pattern  with  "mal- 
ice aforethought."  The  background  has  been  accepted 
as  an  element  in  each  design ;  an  effort  has  been  made 
to  adjust  three  tones,  black,  white,  and  gray,  into  a 
unity  to  which  each  shall  contribute.  The  achievement, 
or,  rather,  the  effort,  is  to  this  extent  more  important 
than  in  Figure  99.  In  Plate  34  one  would  probably 
never  suspect  the  motif  from  which  the  pattern  started. 
The  leaf  form  is  not  that  of  the  Chinese  lily ;  —  and 
why  need  it  be  ?  It  is  here  that  the  idea  sought  in  the 
design  overrides  the  specific  character  of  the  Chinese 
lily  ;  invention  takes  precedence  over  selection.  The 
design  is  consistent  in  treatment  throughout  and  jus- 
tifies the  departure  from  the  particular  forms  of  the 
motif 

So  we  find  that  we  may  accept  the  growth  and  charac- 
ter of  Nature  almost  literally,  as  in  Figure  95,  or  may 
seek  in  Nature  suggestions  which,  when  adapted  to 
our  ideas,  leave  merely  an  incidental  trace  of  the  motif 
in  the  result.  It  matters  not  from  what  source  the 
motif  is  derived,  so  long  as  the  result  is  consistent 
throughout  in  its  adherence  to  or  departure  from  the 
specific  character  of  the  motif;  and  least  of  all  is  an 
identity  of  the  motif  essential  in  a  discussion  of  the 
merit  of  the  design.  If  the  treatment  has  any  claim 
to  be  called  decorative,  it  must  be  based  on  an  interpre- 


THE  IDEA   AND    NATURE  i8i 

tation  of  the  elementary  principles  of  line,  form,  and 
tone  composition. 

Problem.  Instead  of  attempting  a  free  conven- 
tionalization from  Nature  let  us  approach  the  subject 
from  an  abstract  point  of  view  and  seek  to  bring  to  our 
first  studies  of  plant  life  another  expression  of  the  same 
principles  that  have  been  defined  through  straight-line 
problems.  We  shall  endeavor  to  develop  a  rhythmic, 
balanced  composition  of  blacks  and  whites,  suggesting 
plant  growth,  though  not  bound  to  any  specific  speci- 
men from  plant  life.  First,  let  us  again  thresh  out 
the  question  of  space  and  mass.  It  is  ten  to  one  that 
the  student  who  has  approached  the  study  of  design 
by  accumulating  sketches  from  Nature,  and  by  seeking 
in  Nature  a  justification  for  the  principles  that  are  to 
govern  the  structural  development  of  his  design,  will 
feel  that  the  problem  of  conventionalization  is  solved 
when  he  has  adapted  the  lines  and  forms  of  a  specific 
specimen  to  a  definite  shape.  His  attention  is  ab- 
sorbed almost  entirely  by  the  lines  and  forms  of  the 
specimen  with  which  he  is  working ;  it  is  difficult  for 
him  to  depart  from  the  specific  character  of  his  motif 
to  the  abstract  consideration  of  his  design  in  terms  of 
line,  form,  and  tone.  If  we  are  ready  to  accept  the 
assertion  that  the  beauty  of  a  design  is  dependent,  in 
the  final  analysis,  on  its  structural  fitness  and  the  re- 
lation of  lines,  forms,  and  tones,  rather  than  upon  its 


1 82     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

relation  to  Nature,  to  historic  ornament,  to  "  style,"  or 
to  pictorial  interest,  then,  whether  the  designer  wills  it 
or  not,  the  background,  or  space  in  his  design,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  must  be  considered  as  an  integral  part 
of  his  composition.  Seek  where  we  will  through  the 
wall  papers  and  textiles  of  modern  production,  we  find, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  motifs  derived  from  specific 
natural  forms,  arranged  in  more  or  less  ingenious 
patterns.  The  backgrounds  enter  into  the  composi- 
tion as  mere  accidents,  holes  left  after  the  pattern  is 
repeated.  In  the  worst  of  these  designs  sad  efforts  are 
made  to  imitate  Nature  in  color  and  form,  and  to  hide 
the  very  structural  lines  on  which  the  finest  ornament 
has  ever  depended  for  its  beauty  ;  in  the  best  of  them 
we  find  a  consistent  and  thoughtful  treatment  of 
Nature  ;  —  and  yet  we  turn  with  increasing  admiration 
to  the  simple,  dignified,  soul-satisfying  texiles  of  primi- 
tive men  and  to  the  product  that  came  from  the  looms 
of  the  Orient,  from  Persia,  Italy,  Sicily,  and  Flanders 
during  the  palmy  days  of  weaving.  We  discard 
modern  carpets  for  plain  floors  and  Oriental  rugs. 
We  prefer  an  unpapered  wall  to  the  restless,  natural- 
istic patterns  of  modern  production.  What  is  it,  then, 
that  imparts  so  much  of  unrest  to  our  papers  and 
textiles,  so  much  of  restful  simplicity  to  the  older  prod- 
uct ?  Aside  from  the  all-important  question  of  color, 
it  is  this :  modern  patterns  are  imposed  upon  a  back- 


PLATE  35. 
Brocade.    (Metropolitan  Museum.) 


PLATE  36. 
Velvet  Brocade.    (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE  183 

ground ;  the  older  patterns  are  incorporated  into  a 
background.  The  modern  designer  works  from 
Nature  toward  technical  demands ;  the  old  worker 
proceeded  from  a  knowledge  of  technical  demands, 
backed  by  the  traditions  of  generations  of  weavers, 
toward  Nature.  It  is  difficult  to  find  a  modern  figured 
wall  paper  that  will  harmonize  with  any  environment ; 
the  old  product  lends  distinction  to  any  environment 
in  which  it  may  be  placed.  The  first  creates  holes 
through  the  wall  ;  the  second  remains  on  the  wall. 
The  clew  to  the  character  of  the  designs  found  in  the 
best  of  the  old  textiles  (Plates  35,  36,  37,  38)  was  not 
discovered  in  plant  life.  The  designers  possessed  an 
intuitive  feeling  for  beautiful  space  and  mass  relations, 
for  the  principles  governing  line,  form,  and  tone  ad- 
justment. Nature  gave  to  their  work  its  final  touch 
of  distinction. 

It  is  our  problem,  then,  to  define  the  meaning  of 
rhythm  and  balance  as  expressed  in  curved  lines. 
The  most  interesting  interpretation  of  the  principles 
of  rhythm  and  balance  in  line  and  form  applied  to 
Nature  is  to  be  found  in  the  flower  compositions 
practiced  in  Japan,  and  explained  by  Mr.  J.  Conder  in 
his  valuable  book  entitled  "  The  Flowers  of  Japan  and 
the  Art  of  Floral  Arrangement,"  from  which  Figures 
100,  loi  are  adapted.  To  us  a  mass  of  flowers  thrust 
into  a  vase,  or  bound  together  as  a  bouquet,  is  suffi- 


1 84     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

cient.     But  to  the  Japanese  the  leaves  and  stems,  their 

arrangement  and  grouping,  are  quite  as  important  as  the 

flower  itself.     They 

endeavor  to  adjust  a 

few  lines  and  forms 

into  a  rhythmic  and 

balanced     composi- 

rj^i  .  ^  Fig.  100. 

tion.       1  hey    assist 

Nature,  so  to  speak,  to  achieve  the  ideal  toward  which 
she  seems  ever  striving.  This  type  of  composition  has 
become  with  the  Japanese  an  art,  governed  by  definite 
^x-N         C^    /3      '  principles.      By 


r 


"^     careful  selection  of 
/pA  flowers,  pruning  of 

^S)'^  \^  leaves,  subtle  bend- 

ing of  stems,  they 
attain    the    desired 
^^^•^°'-  effect.    Mr.Conder 

describes  and  illustrates  these  laws  and  principles  with 
thoroughness  and  completeness.  Figure  lOO  illustrates 
some  of  the  movements  to  be  desired  in  two,  three,  and 
five-stem  compositions.  It  will  be  noted  that  the  unity 
of  the  composition  is  dependent  primarily  upon  the 
reciprocal  relations  of  the  stems,  then  upon  the  group- 
ing of  leaves  and  flowers.  Figure  loi  illustrates  a  few 
of  the  many  things  to  be  avoided,  —  formal  symmetry, 
—  equal  height,  —  equal  stepping,  —  "  dew  spilling  " 


PLATE  37. 
Velvet.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


> 


Ifi.-^  Sti^ 


PLATE  38. 
Scutari  Velvet.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


THE   IDEA  AND   NATURE  185 

leaves  which  carry  the  eye  out  of  the  composition. 
The  ideas  thus  briefly  noted  are  the  same  that  must 
guide  us  to  the  achievement  of  any  interest  or  unity  in 
the  present  problem. 

As  a  simple  demonstration  of  these  principles  let  us 
choose  an  abstract  form  such  as  is  shown  in  Figure 

102.    This  form 

*  ®  CB  ® 

may  represent  a 


^O"*   ^^Zi^C:^  1 — r-r^ JTS  ^^y  represent  ; 

0>~      I      I      I     TUST        ^^^^  solid  of  three  di 


I^SjT 


Fig.  102. 


mensions  rather 
than  a  half  circle. 
To  a  grouping 
of  three  of  these  forms  we  shall  first  seek  to  impart 
variety  with  unity.  In  the  first  case  there  is  variety  on 
the  horizontal  lines  ;  in  the  second,  variety  on  the  verti- 
cal ;  in  the  third,  variety  on  both  horizontal  and  vertical. 
But  in  the  association  of  three  objects  similar  in  shape 
and  measure  the  most  obvious  thing  to  do  would  be  to 
break  them  into  groups  of  two  and  one,  as  in  the  final 
example.  Here  is  as  much  variety  as  is  consistent  with 
the  unity  of  effect.  The  thought  brings  us  back  to 
the  elementary  demonstrations  of  proportion  in  the 
spacing  of  lines.  There  is  more  interest  in  the  sixth 
than  in  the  fifth  grouping  of  lines. 

In  Figure  103  the  first  example  lacks  this  element 
of  variety.  In  the  second  the  grouping  of  forms  and 
stem  lines  is  unquestionably  more  interesting.     In  the 


i86     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


third,  fourth,  and  fifth  examples  another  factor  count- 
ing for  variety  is  introduced,  —  variety  in  the  direc- 
tions of  the  movements  of  growth.  Considering  these 
forms  as  elementary  flowers  a  breaking  of  each  form 
into  petals  must  be  attended  with  the  same  regard  for 
variety ;  in  the  sixth  example  each  form  is  subdivided 


3^ 


Fig.  103. 

into  equal  but  related  space  relations.  This  breaking 
has  been  done  without  disturbing  the  rhythmic  move- 
ment of  all  the  details.  In  the  following  example  it  is 
apparent  that  the  balance  is  lost ;  also  that  the  lines 
which  break  up  the  big  forms  are  not  in  good  rhyth- 
mic relation  to  the  rest  of  the  lines.     In  the  last  case 


PLATE  39. 
Nature  Symbols. 


THE   IDEA   AND    NATURE  187 

a  few  slight  changes  restores  the  balance  of  the  whole 
and  the  rhythmic  movement  of  all  the  details. 

In  Plate  39  the  same  abstract  lines  and  forms  are 
studied  for  the  sake  of  repeated  patterns.  The  leaf 
form  employed  is  quite  arbitrary,  chosen  because  it 
seems  in  keeping  with  the  end  sought.  Compare 
these  simple  borders  with  the  straight-line  designs  that 
have  preceded  them  and  it  will  be  seen  at  once  that 
their  interest  is  due  solely  to  their  structural  character. 
Every  element  within  the  borders,  space  and  mass 
alike,  has  been  made  to  contribute  its  share  to  the 
effect.  In  Figure  104  a  surface  development  is  shown 
from  a  clew  suggested  by  one  of  the  borders,  and  in 
Plate  40  is  another  step  in  which  the  reciprocal  rela- 
tion of  space  and  mass  is  readily  seen.  The  back- 
ground is  composed  of  dark  and  light  leaves  working 
in  unity. 

A  study  which  strikes  a  happy  middle  ground  be- 
tween Nature  and  the  abstract  in  its  treatment  is  shown 
in  the  Japanese  textile  of  Plate  41.  Note  the  group- 
ing and  breaking  of  the  flower  forms  and  the  charming 
treatment  of  leaves  and  background. 

Problem.  It  is  not  proposed  to  develop  the  idea 
of  decorative  composition  from  Nature  along  the  line 
indicated  in  Figure  95.  Rather,  let  us  seek  in  Nature 
a  stimulant  for  the  inventive  faculty  in  the  composition 
of  abstract  forms ;  the  b.est  time  to  go  to  Nature  is 


1 88     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


Fig.  104. 


PLATE  40. 
Nature  Symbols. 


PLATE  41. 
Japanese  Textile. 


THE   IDEA  AND   NATURE  189 

when  the  imagination  falters.  As  a  preliminary  study 
for  this  problem  it  would  be  well  to  analyze  a  flower 
of  careful  selection,  —  say,  a  rose  that  is  set  with 
particular  beauty  upon  its  stem.  Let  us  pass  the  rose 
of  symmetrical  growth  for  one  which  offers  a  variety 
in  petal  curvature,  with  a  balanced  disposition  of  lines 
and  forms  of  growth.  Study  it  in  outline  and  in  mass, 
in  different  positions ;  note  the  relation  of  the  petals 
to  the  center  and  to  each  other.  Detach  a  few  of  the 
petals  and  draw  them  from  different  points  of  view. 

With  these  forms  as  a  keynote  let  us  try  the  con- 
struction of  similar  forms  suggestive  though  not  imita- 
tive of  flower  petals.  As  areas  their  beauty  will  be 
dependent  on  the  relation  of  contour  lines.  It  is  then 
the  purpose  to  build  up  an  abstract  flower  form  from 
the  garden  of  the  imagination.  Its  beauty  will  be  a 
test  of  the  feeling  for  rhythm  and  balance  that  is  within 
the  worker.  Figure  105  may  serve  to  indicate  the 
start.  A  few  tentative  lines  may  define  the  general 
form  of  the  flower  and  the  subdivision  of  the  parts. 
In  shaping  the  petals  into  which  this  general  form  is 
to  be  subdivided,  it  is  essential  to  bear  these  points  in 
mind :  each  petal  must  be  graceful  in  movement, 
pleasing  in  shape ;  there  should  be  variety  with  unity 
in  the  shapes  and  measures  of  the  different  petals ; 
they  should  be  united  in  a  movement  toward  a  com- 
mon center ;  should  hang  together  as  a  whole  ;  and, 


190     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

last,  you  are  compelled,  under  pressure  of  necessity, 
to  study  the  whites  as  well  as  the  blacks.  If  you  are 
able  to  attain  the  desired  result  in  a  single  flower,  it 


Fig.  105. 

will  not  be  difficult  to  combine  lines  and  forms  suggest- 
ing two  flowers,  or  a  flower  and  a  bud,  in  a  common 
mbvement.     The  demands  of  balanced  composition. 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE 


191 


rather  than  a  symmetrical  arrangement,  will  naturally 
lead  the  designer  to  give  dominant  height  to  one  flower. 
Then  see  if  you  can  strike  a  few  well-curved  lines 
having  a  common  growing-point  and  related  by  a 
movement  in  harmony  with  the  movement  of  the 
blacks  and  whites  represented  by  the  flower  heads. 
In   the   same   way  see  if  you  can  develop  a  simple. 


Fig.  106. 

abstract  leaf  form.  The  leaves  suggested  are  of  the 
simplest  possible  kind  ;  it  should  be  noted  that  the 
growing  point  of  each  leaf  is  different  from  its  ending. 
"  Parts  which  differ  in  function  should  differ  in  appear- 
ance." The  movement  of  the  entire  forms,  stems, 
leaves,  flowers,  should  be  felt  out  together,  subject  to 
change,  for  sake  of  the  whole,  in  any  of  its  details. 


192     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

Figure   io6  shows  such  results  as  might  be  expected 
from  this  problem.     Each  example,  like  a  good  story. 


Fig.  107. 
has  a  definite  starting  point,  a  gradual  unfolding  of  its 
movement,  and  a  conclusion  with  a  concentration  of 


'% 


PLATE  42. 
RACT  Rhythms. 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE  193 

interest  in  the  flower  forms.  For  sake  of  continuity 
of  movement  a  tangential  union  of  all  lines  is  necessary ; 
the  movement  may  be  sinuous  and  slow,  or  rapid, 
depending  upon  the  relations  of  lines  (Figure  107). 
The  eye  moves  most  rapidly  along  lines  closely  related 
in  curvature.  Not  only  in  lines  and  shapes,  but  in 
measures  as  well,  we  may  seek  to  gain  command  of  the 
rhythmic  movement  of  these  studies.  In  the  lower 
part  of  this  figure  measure  rhythm  has  entered  into  the 
problem.  In  the  first  an  upward  increase  of  measures 
in  both  blacks  and  whites  imparts  dynamic  force  to 
the  conclusion.  In  the  second  the  downward  increase 
of  measures  adds  strength  to  the  beginning  of  the 
movement.  To  borrow  terms  from  music,  the  first  is  a 
crescendo ;  the  second  a  diminuendo.  To  acquire  com- 
plete command  over  rhythmic  forces  is  the  end  sought. 
Problem.  Let  us  continue  the  thought  of  the 
last  problem  under  different  conditions,  a  development 
of  either  an  abstract  or  Nature-derived  motif  within  an 
inclosing  form.  A  simple  version  of  the  problem  will 
serve  to  define  the  intent  of  the  treatment  (Plate  42). 
Within  a  circle  of  about  three  inches  diameter  see  if 
you  can  swing  a  series  of  live  curves,  breaking  the 
circle  into  space  divisions  in  which  each  line  is  rhyth- 
mically related  to  the  circumference  of  the  circle.  If 
you  will  follow  with  a  pencil  the  lines  in  any  of  the 
figures  of  this  plate,  you  will  have  the  essential  point 


194     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

of  the  problem.  There  is  a  natural  and  easy  flow  of 
lines  from  the  circumference  of  the  circle  back  to  the 
circumference.  As  these  lines  are  made  it  will  be  found 
that  areas  are  formed.  Each  area  must  be  interesting 
in  its  contour  and  related  in  measure  to  the  other  areas. 
It  will  be  found,  almost  invariably,  that  one  area  per- 
sists in  remaining  as  a  mere  accidental  hole  in  the  result, 
refusing  to  come  into  the  same  plane  with  the  others. 
To  subdue  this  obstinate  area  and  keep  all  of  the  spots 
in  a  single  flat  plane  demands  more  skill  than  a  mere 
statement  of  the  difficulty  may  imply. 

Now  let  us  develop  a  motif  within  a  circle.  Plates 
43,  44  serve  to  illustrate  the  intent  of  the  problem 
and  an  application  of  the  idea  in  the  work  of  designers 
who  were  masters  of  their  materials.  Note  in  both 
the  way  in  which  variety  with  unity  has  been  achieved. 
Of  special  interest  is  the  grouping  of  the  kernels  of 


Fig.  xo8. 


^ 


PLATE  43. 
Japanese  Sword  Guards.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


PLATE  44. 
Chinese  Textile.     (Boston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE 


195 


grain  in  the  first  plate.  Here  alone  there  is  evidence 
of  a  master's  touch, 
of  a  refined  feeling 
that  does  not  stop 
short  of  the  last 
minute  detail  in  the 
finished  product.  In 
Plate  44  the  dragon, 
a  creature  of  the  im- 
agination, has  been 
chosen  as  a  basis  for 
the  arbitrary  break- 
ing of  a  circle  into  fig.  109. 

space  and  mass  rela- 
tions of  dark  and 
light. 

Figure  108  repre- 
sents the  simplest 
version  of  the  prob- 
lem we  are  now  to 
solve.  Here  the 
lines  and  forms  of 
natural  growth  have 
been  fitted  to  the  de- 
FiG.  HO.  mands  of  a  rhythmic 

composition  within  a  circle.     Figures  109,  no  indicate 
good  feeling  for  related  movements  of  line  and  group- 


ig6     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND    PRACTICE 

ings  of  forms.     The  problem  will  be  found  sufficiently 
difficult  if  we  eliminate  details  and  treat  the  growth  in 

one  simple  flat 
plane.  In  Fig- 
ure III,  from 
the  yellow  ad- 
der's tongue,  is 
a  more  difficult 
expression  of  the 
idea.  In  the  op- 
position of  two 
specimens  there 
is  always  serious 
trouble  involved 

at    the    growing 

Fig,  III.  •     ,  <T-«  i_ 

points.       1  he 

trouble  was  averted  by  approaching  the  problem  from 

the  point  of  view  of  a  black-and-white   composition, 

subordinating  Nature  to  the  principles  governing  such 

a  composition  of  lines  and  forms.     In  Plate  45  another 

difficulty  is  added  to  the  problem  by  attempting  to 

secure  a  balance  of  three  values  in  the  result.     In  this 

acceptance  of  another  element  the  importance  of  the 

effiDrt  increases.     In  Figure  112  the  orange  has  been 

adapted  to  the  form  of  a  triangle.     The  idea  involved 

in  the  problem  remains  unchanged.     If  you  will  refer 

to  Figure  84,  you  will  find  the  same  problem  expressed 


PLATE  45. 
Nature  Symbol.  —  Rhythm  and  Balance. 


-1 


THE  IDEA  AND   NATURE 


197 


in  simpler  terms.  If  the  simple,  geometric  statement 
of  the  idea  was  understood,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  pres- 
ent problem  merely  multiplies  the  difficulties  by  re- 


FiG.  112. 


moving  the  props  furnished  by  the  squared  paper  and 
a  limitation  to  straight  lines.  The  design  must  proceed 
from  the  whole  to  the  parts,  from  a  tentative  blocking 
out  of  the  lines  and  forms  to  the  final  touches  of  re- 
finement of  execution.  It  is  unnecessary  to  enslave 
one*s  self  to  a  "  leading  line."  There  may  be  many  shifts 
and  changes  of  the  first  tentative  lines  as  a  solution  de- 
velops ;  but  not  for  a  moment  must  one  lose  sight  of 
the  necessity  for  relating  all  of  the  lines  and  forms  in  a 
common  purpose.  In  Plate  46  are  two  renderings  of 
the  result.  In  one  is  a  balance  of  three  values;  in  the 
other  a  dominant  contrast  has  been  given  to  the  leaf 
forms. 

Incidentally   it   may  be  asked:    Why   should  one 


198     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

commend  the  treatment  accorded  Nature  in  Plates  43, 
44  and  condemn  the  naturalistic  character  of  the  iron 
work  shown  in  Figure  57?  Here  in  one  of  these 
plates  the  scales  of  a  fish  and  the  leaves  of  the  bamboo 
are  detailed  with  painstaking  exactness.  But  if  we  give 
more  careful  thought  to  a  consideration  of  the  motives 
underlying  the  work  of  the  Japanese  artisan  and  the 
rococo  blacksmith,  we  shall  find  a  fundamental  differ- 
ence in  the  aims  and  results.  To  suspend  a  natural- 
istic iron  festoon  of  beribboned  flowers  from  a  bracket 
is  quite  feasible  if  the  worker  has  sufficient  technical 
skill  to  imitate  with  more  or  less  exactness  or  through 
technical  mannerism  a  carefully  arranged  model  placed 
before  him.  There  is  no  great  amount  of  mental  ex- 
ertion evident  in  such  a  piece  of  work.  The  French 
potter,  Bernard  Palissy,  in  his  fervent  plea  that  the 
beauty  of  Nature  alone  was  sufficient  excuse  for  its  un- 
restrained application  to  design,  went  so  far  as  to  make 
casts  from  frogs,  shells,  and  fishes  for  use  in  his  work, 
giving  to  these  casts  all  the  realistic  character  that  his 
glazes  permitted.  And  the  closer  he  came  to  Nature 
the  less  interesting  his  product  became.  He  expected 
Nature  to  do  his  designing  for  him.  In  his  work,  be- 
yond the  admirable  technique  involved  in  the  execution, 
there  was  no  evidence  of  system  or  orderly  thought ; 
the  idea  was  wrong.  While  a  motif  from  Nature  may 
be  beautiful  on  its  own  account,  any  effort  to  beat  that 


THE   IDEA   AND   NATURE  199 

beauty  into  iron,  weave  it  into  cloth,  chisel  it  in  marble, 
or  model  it  in  clay  can  end  in  nothing  short  of  disaster. 
In  the  work  of  the  Japanese  artisans  each  detail  is  made 
to  conform  to  the  idea  that  the  worker  had  in  mind  to 
express.  Not  in  the  demands  of  utility  alone,  nor  in 
tools  or  materials,  much  less  in  Nature,  can  be  found 
the  key  to  a  beautiful  and  distinctive  product.  A  de- 
signer's work  will  inevitably  form  an  index  to  the 
soundness  of  his  judgment,  the  strength  of  his  imagina- 
tion, the  depth  of  his  feeling.  From  within  him  must 
proceed  the  idea  that  stamps  his  work  as  beautiful  or 
ugly,  distinctive  or  commonplace,  worthy  or  unworthy. 
Nature  stubbornly  refuses  to  do  his  thinking  for  him. 


CHAPTER   X 
From  the  Parts  to  the  Whole 

**  Criticism  is  easy.     But  Art  is  difficult.** 

—  Inscription,  Beaux  Arts,  Paris, 

LET  us  build  up  a  surface  repeat,  assuming  as  a 
motif  the  three  berries  and  two  leaves  with 
which  acquaintance  was  made  under  the  limi- 
tations of  straight-line  work.  As  in  the  former  case, 
we  are  not  bound  to  any  particular  specimen  from 
Nature,  though  here,  as  at  all  times,  it  is  assumed  that 
a  study  of  Nature  has  stored  the  mind  with  numerous 
available  forms.  In  the  demonstrations  that  follow 
purely  abstract  forms  are  employed. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  first  detail,  Figure  113,  A. 
The  grouping  of  the  three  berries  first  claims  atten- 
tion. The  bottom  group,  considering  these  three 
groups  without  the  addition  of  other  details,  seems  to 
possess  greater  variety  in  the  relative  positions  of  the 
berries  than  the  top  one,  and  suggests  a  more  consist- 
ent growth  than  the  middle  one.  Any  of  these 
groups  might  be  justified,  however,  in  the  arrangement 
of  other  details  of  the  unit.  Let  us  choose  the  bottom 
group.     With  this  simple  suggestion  as  a  start  it  is 

200 


j^ 


FROM   THE   PARTS   TO   THE   WHOLE     201 


now  desirable  to  bring  the  two  leaves  of  the  motif  into 
some  rhythmic  relation  to  the  berries. 

A  few  tentative  lines  might  result  in  some  such 
movement  as  is  shown  in  B.  There  is  now  a  reciprocal 
relation   of  these  minor  details.     In   completing   the 

<■  A 

o 
(ft) 


Fig.  113. 

symmetrical  adjustment  of  these  elements,  as  in  C,  it 
must,  of  course,  be  decided  whether  the  widest  part  of 
the  unit  shall  be  at  the  top  or  at  the  bottom  ;  for  the 
sake  of  variety  it  seems  better  that  it  should  be  at 
one  or  the  other  rather  than  at  the  center.  It  must 
also  be  kept  in  mind  that  the  symmetry  of  white  within 
the  unit  is  just  as  important  as  the  symmetry  of  black 
formed  by  the  leaves.     In  the  present  case  it  is  perhaps 


202     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


the  more  interesting  of  the    two.     So  much  for  the 
unit ;  its  lines  and  forms  have  been  determined. 

It  is  now  necessary  to  gain  a  reciprocal  relation 
from  unit  to  unit  with  a  space  and  mass  composition 
that  will  bind  the  repeated  pattern  together  into  a 
unity  of  effect.  Experience  enables  the  designer  to 
foresee,  in  the  shaping  of  the  unit,  the  possibilities 
that  it  may  possess  for  a  repeated  pattern.  He  shapes 
the  details  with  the  whole  in  mind.  But  the  present 
aim  is  experimental  in  character.  As  a  next  step, 
draw  the  center  line  of  the  unit  as  indicated.  Then 
on  a  full  sheet  of  the  transparent  paper  draw  another 
center  line.  Place  the  unit  in  the  center  of  the  paper, 
underneath,  with  the  two  lines  coinciding;  trace  the 
result.  We  now  have  the  first  element  of  the  pattern. 
How  can  the  unit  be  repeated  at  regular    intervals  to 


'7 1— jr-J— - 


Fig.  114. 


furnish  the  most  satisfactory  result  ?  In  the  various 
diagrams  shown  in  Figure  114  it  may  be  assumed  that 
the  first  unit  is  represented  in  each  diagram  by  the 
figure  I.     It   becomes  necessary  to  decide  upon  the 


FROM   THE   PARTS  TO   THE  WHOLE     203 

position  of  the  second  unit  of  the  repeat.  By  moving 
the  original  unit  about  under  the  transparent  paper 
the  relation  of  the  two  units  as  well  as  a  forecast  of  the 
final  effect  may  be  obtained.  For  sake  of  illustra- 
tion it  may  be  assumed  that  a  decision  is  made  as  in  the 
diagram  A.  A  second  center  line  should  be  drawn  on 
the  paper  and  the  second  tracing  made.  A  symmet- 
rical   unit  almost  invariably   demands  a  symmetrical 


Fig.  115. 

repeat ;  hence  an  indefinite  number  of  center  lines 
may  next  be  drawn  on  the  paper  with  the  distance 
between  these  two  as  a  key.  Now  when  the  units 
numbered  3-4  have  been  given  position,  the  solution 
of  the  problem  as  a  design  has  only  begun.  The  two 
questions  of  most  importance  are  to  be  solved  now. 
The  units  must  be  bound  together  into   a  compact 


204     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   Al^D    PRACTICE 

whole,  with  some  rhythmic  interrelation  of  all  elements  ; 
the  space,  indictated  in  each  diagram  by  the  figure  5, 
must  be  accepted  as  another  element  in  the  pattern,  — 
its  shape  and  measure  must  be  developed  as  an  integral 
part  of  the  design.  Figure  115  represents  the  steps 
up  to  this  point.  It  is  readily  seen  that  in  the  first 
section  of  this  design  the  space  5  is  too  large  and  empty  ; 
the  units  are  not  well  related.  In  the  second  section 
a  simple  line  serves  to  break  in  upon  the  large  area 
of  white,  and  produces  a  better  balance  of  space  and 
mass ;  it  also  binds  the  units  together  into  a  common 
movement,  relates  the  blacks  and  whites,  and  produces 
a  third  subordinate  tone. 

That  is  designing  with  an  eye  to  the  principles 
that  these  problems  have  been  defining.  The  method 
of  repetition  may  vary ;  but  the  idea  is  exactly  the 
same.  In  Figure  116,  for  example,  another  develop- 
ment of  this  same  unit  is  shown  based  upon  the  con- 
struction indicated  in  the  diagram  B  of  Figure  114. 
It  may  appear  that  the  unit  is  better  adapted  to  this 
repeat  than  to  the  other ;  in  which  case  the  experiment 
has  made  it  possible  to  look  ahead,  in  planning  an- 
other unit,  to  the  completed  result.  It  is  thus  that 
we  learn,  —  by  doing,  by  experiment,  comparison,  and 
selection. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  carry  this  unit  through  one 
or  two  more  experiments,  into  results  more  complex. 


FROM   THE   PARTS   TO    THE   WHOLE     205 

more  important.  The  original  unit  may  always  be 
altered  at  will  to  suit  the  exigencies  of  repetition,  as  in 
Figure  117,  for  example.  Here  a  slight  additional  en- 
richment given  to  the  original  unit,  as  indicated  by  the 
dark  line  in  D  of  Figure  113,  furnished  a  new  unit 
which  was  repeated  on  the  structural  plan  shown  in 

mmwk 


Fig.  116. 


Figure  114,  B.  The  development  was  quite  the 
same  as  before,  —  namely,  an  interrelation  of  the  units 
and  a  breaking  up  of  the  background  spaces  in  order 
to  bring  them  into  the  best  possible  adjustment  with 
the  units.  To  this  end  slight  additions  were  made  to 
the  unit,  as  shown  by  the  lighter  lines  in  Figure  113, 
D.     In  the  final  result  each  shape  and  measure  of 


2o6     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND    PRACTICE 

black  and  white  is  made  to  contribute  some  element  of 
interest  to  the  design.     It  is  not  a  black  design  on  a 


Fig.  117. 


white  ground ;  nor  is  it  a  white  design  on  a  black 
ground.  It  is  a  cooperation  of  black  and  white  ele- 
ments, of  space  and  mass,  of  line  and  form,  to  a  com- 


PLATE  47. 
Nature  Symbols. 


FROM    THE   PARTS   TO   THE   WHOLE     207 

mon  purpose ;  all  of  which  is  a  return  to  the  original 
propositions  with  which  these  Problems  were  started. 

In  Plate  47  is  a  still  more  important  effort  devel- 
oped from  the  same  starting  point.  Here  it  has  be- 
come necessary  to  discipline  three  tones,  black,  white, 
and  gray,  into  a  unity  of  effect,  to  which  each  must 
contribute  its  share.  If  you  will  keep  in  mind  the 
demonstration  to  this  point,  the  complexities  of  this 
pattern  will  be  found  to  be  more  apparent  than  real. 
The  first  step  is  shown  in  Figure  113,  E,  F.  It 
will  be  seen  that  the  original  unit  with  which  the  start 
was  made  has  now  become  a  mere  incident  in  the 
breaking  up  of  the  space  and  mass  areas  of  a  more 
complex  unit.  Other  experiments  might,  of  course, 
produce  units  quite  different  in  character  from  this  one. 
The  unit  was  repeated  on  the  same  structural  lines  as 
in  the  preceding  plate,  though  the  increased  size  of 
the  unit  naturally  demanded  a  spacing  at  wider  inter- 
vals. If  a  comparison  is  made  between  the  unit  as 
shown  in  Figure  113  and  the  completed  pattern,  several 
additions  or  slight  alterations  may  be  noted.  If  the 
demonstrations  have  been  clear  the  reasons  that  prompted 
each  change  in  the  unit  will  be  clear.  The  mere 
repetition  of  the  unit  is  a  minor  question  ;  the  means 
adopted  to  bring  unity  to  the  result  is  the  important 
question.  And  if  the  principles  of  composition  are 
understood,  the  most  prosaic  and  unpromising  material 


2o8     DESIGN   IN  THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

may  be  developed  into  a  pattern  of  interest  and  beauty. 
And,  per  contra^  if  these  principles  are  not  understood, 
material  of  rare  beauty  may  be  developed  into  a  pat- 
tern devoid  of  any  interest  or  distinction.  Though 
the  unit  itself  is  comparatively  unimportant,  the  use 
that  is  made  of  the  unit  being  the  important  thing, 
the  best  design  will  always  be  one  that  shows  a  logical 
and  distinctive  construction  down  to  the  last  minute 
detail,  an  interrelation  to  a  definite  end  of  every  Hne 
and  form  employed. 

Now,  to  return  to  the  first  statement  of  the  motif, 
three  berries  and  two  leaves.  Figure  ii8  represents 
other  units  equally  dependent  for  interest  upon  the  re- 
lation of  black 
and  white  ele- 
ments. They 
are  merely 
masses  of  black 


^[1 


^' 


||PaBM||pafaB|  spaces  of  white. 

Fig.  ii8.  the    spaces    of 

white  being  subdivided  in  turn  by  lines  of  black, 
all  bound  together  into  a  compact  and  related  whole. 
In  one  of  these  the  squared  paper  of  times  past  again 
appears.  In  Figures  119,  120  two  of  these  units  are 
repeated,  with  such  additions  in  each  case  as  will  best 
serve  to  bring  to  the  result  the  character  that  is  sought. 


FROM   THE   PARTS   TO   THE   WHOLE 


209 


mmi 


This  character  forms,  here  as  in  the  past,  the  basis  of 
our  experiments.  Fortunately  there  are  no  rules  or 
receipts  in  design,  no  method  that  will  enable  a  lazy- 
individual  to  achieve  distinction,  no  process  that  will 
supplant  orderly  thought, 
hard  work,  and  common 
sense.  Such  compara- 
tively simple  designs  as 
those  shown  in  Figures 
119,  120  demand  orderly 
and  concentrated  thought. 
The  finished  product 
may,  and  should,  have 
an  appearance  of  sponta- 
neity ;  the  drudgery  that 
its  completion  may  have 
entailed  should  be  elimi- 
nated. None  but  those 
who  have  learned  the 
true    significance   of  the  fi^.  119. 

little  word  s^udy  will  discern  beneath  the  surface  the 
many  experiments,  comparisons,  and  final  selection. 

To  follow  the  path  backward,  then,  through  the 
analysis  of  a  distinctive  surface  pattern  we  would  ask : 
first,  that  its  spotting  of  space  and  mass  shall  be  inter- 
esting when  viewed  as  a  whole ;  that  its  structure  shall 
be  apparent  to  the  eye ;  that  each  tone,  measure,  and 


210     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


shape  shall  contribute  something  to  the  unity  ;  that  all 
of  the  lines  and  forms  employed  shall  be  intimately 
and  organically  related,  even  to  the  last  detail. 

Thus  it  is  seen  that  the  same  constructive  principles 
are  involved  in  the  planning  of  an  abstract  pattern  as 


<&iF^  ^oS^Io^ 


Fig.  I20. 


in  the  designing,  for  example,  of  an  architectural  com- 
position. The  beauty  of  either  is  dependent  upon  the 
refinement  and  enrichment  of  a  logical  construction. 
If  the  structural  lines  are  weak  or  are  ignored,  are 
buried  from  sight  under  a  mass  of  superficial  details, 
then  no  amount  of  enrichment,  whether  it  be  "  Greek 


TLATE  48. 
Persian  Velvet.     CBoston  Museum  of  Fine  Arts.) 


FROM   THE    PARTS   TO   THE   WHOLE     211 

style "  or  "  Gothic  style/'  or  whatever  the  skill  that 
may  enter  into  its  execution,  will  produce  a  result  of 
character  and  distinction. 

These  experiments  with  surface  patterns  would 
naturally  be  carried  on  simultaneously  with  a  study  of 
textiles,  wall  papers,  etc.  In  the  development  of  tex- 
tiles from  the  mediaeval  period  on  through  following 
centuries  is  a  profitable  source  of  comparative  study. 
It  shows  a  progress  from  severe  structural  simplicity 
to  a  hopeless  potpourri  of  lovelorn  swains,  cupids,  rib- 
bons, and  flying  garlands  of  flowers.  One  may  note 
the  gradual  separation  of  the  designer  from  the  tech- 
nical demands  of  the  process ;  in  later  years  we  find 
the  workmen  vainly  essaying  the  production  of  designs 
furnished  them  by  painters  who  never  saw  a  loom  and 
knew  little  of  its  possibilities  or  limitations.  Raphael 
himself  had  much  better  kept  to  his  painting  than 
designing  cartoons  for  the  weavers  of  tapestries.  In 
the  repetition  of  such  a  simple  unit  as  that  shown  in 
Plate  48  there  is  bound  to  be  a  refreshing  simplicity. 
It  is  a  symphony  in  lines,  forms,  and  tones.  It  has  no 
pictorial  interest,  and  needs  none.  There  is  a  feeling 
of  reserve  strength  throughout,  however.  The  de- 
signer might  have  told  more  if  he  had  chosen ;  but  he 
preferred  a  simple  structural  treatment,  in  a  broad,  flat 
plane  of  light  and  dark.  He  broke  his  darks  with 
areas  of  light,  and  broke  his  lights  with  areas  of  dark. 


212     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

each  contributing  to  a  unity.  Of  quite  a  different 
treatment,  though  of  similar  character,  is  the  Japanese 
textile  shown  in  Plate  49.  Those  who  express  a  lik- 
ing for  Japanese  work  because  it  is  "  so  informal "  fail 
to  understand  the  character  of  true  Japanese  art.  All 
that  was  said  of  the  preceding  plate  may  be  said  of  this 
wonderful  textile.  It  is  a  simple,  flat  spotting  of  lights 
and  darks,  each  contributing  to  the  effect  of  the  whole. 
Note  how  the  legs  break  in  upon  the  measures  of  dark, 
—  the  rhythmic  movement  of  the  bodies  and  necks. 
The  measures  of  light  are  broken  by  the  bills  and 
wings.  As  in  the  other  textile  there  is  evidence  of  a 
definite  idea,  of  orderly  thought,  and  a  treatment  that 
is  consistent  throughout.  It  is  the  repetition  of  a  unit 
on  the  structural  lines  of  Figure  114,  A,  the  units  in 
the  vertical  repeat  being  turned  alternately  to  the  right 
and  left. 

If  the  unit  is  unsymmetrical  one  may  be  justified 
in  giving  it  an  unsymmetrical  repetition,  as  in  Plate 
50.  The  structural  basis  of  the  repeat  is  always  de- 
termined, in  experiments  of  this  kind,  by  the  shape 
and  measure  of  the  unit.  In  other  words  the  struc- 
ture of  the  design  is  determined  by  the  idea  which 
it  is  desired  to  express  in  the  repetition  of  the  motif. 
In  experimenting  with  this  unit  to  the  end  that  has 
been  explained,  it  was  found  that  the  most  interesting 
relations  could  be  established  by  repeating  it  on  lines 


PLATE  49. 
Japanese  Textile. 


PLATE  50. 
Unsymmetrical  Surface  Repeat. 


FROM   THE   PARTS   TO   THE   WHOLE     213 

indicated  in  Figure  114,  D.  Incidentally  the  motif 
chosen  here  was  quite  as  simple  as  the  other ;  it  might 
be  stated  in  these  words, — flowery  budy  leaf.  Different 
individuals  might  render  the  motif  in  as  many  different 
ways  as  in  the  preceding  demonstrations  ;  and  here,  as 
before,  one  might  seek  assistance  from  Nature  or  de- 
velop a  motif  from  imagination.  It  is  a  matter  of 
choice  and  does  not  affect,  for  good  or  bad,  the  funda- 
mental character  of  the  result. 

Problem.  This  is  another  problem  of  the  same 
character  as  many  that  have  preceded  it.  Its  purpose 
is  the  same,  —  namely,  an  adjustment  of  elementary 
forms  into  which  Nature  enters  to  impart  additional 
animation  and  interest  to  a  definition  of  simple  prin- 
ciples. By  the  use  of  symbols  such  as  are  here  indi- 
cated, one  should  in  time  acquire  the  ability  to  think 
in  terms  of  design  whether  or  not  Nature  enters  into 
the  question.  The  motif  of  this  problem  may  be 
stated  in  two  words  — fishy  water.  The  aim  of  the 
problem  —  to  arrange  these  symbols  within  an  inclos- 
ing form  in  such  way  that  the  various  attractive 
forces  will  be  rhythmically  related  in  positions  of 
balance.  Before  attempting  a  solution  of  the  problem 
it  would  be  well  to  refresh  the  memory  by  a  reference 
to  the  abstract  demonstrations  that  defined  the  ideas 
of  rhythm  and  balance  in  a  previous  chapter.  And  a 
statement  there  made  will  also  bear  repetition,  —  the 


214     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


artistic  interest  in  the  result  depends  largely  upon  an 
appreciative  application  of  the  principles  rather  than 
upon  a  mere  understanding  of  the  formulae  through 
which  they  were  described.  We  started  to  play  our 
tunes,  in  the  first  problem  of  this  series,  on  a  primitive 
reed  flute  of  a  few  simple  notes.  The  range  of  possi- 
biUties  of  this  instrument  is  now  increased  to  the  point 
where  the  personal  equation  becomes  the  important 
factor  in  the  result.  Imagination,  and  the  ability  to 
play  under  the  restraint  of  orderly  thought,  will  deter- 
mine whether  these  little  compositions  shall  be  inter- 
esting and  artistic  or  deadly  formal  and  prosaic. 

The  character  of  the  symbols  for  the  problem  are 
indicated  in  Figure  121.  They  are  fishes  reduced  to 
the  fewest    possible    lines.     To  these  may  be    added 

others  based  on 
an  intimate 
study  of  fish 
life,  or  made 
from  the  imagi- 
nation on  a  basis 
Fig.  121.  of  general  know- 

ledge of  such  forms.  It  is  desirable  that  there  should 
be  variety  in  the  shapes  and  measures  of  the  sym- 
bols. As  a  start  toward  the  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem, the  size  and  shape  of  the  inclosing  form  should 
be  established,  although  this  form  may  be  changed  as 


PLATE  51. 
Composition  of  Tones,  Measures,  and  Shapes. 


FROM   THE   PARTS  TO   THE  WHOLE     215 


the  design  develops.  Then  within  this  form  it  is  our 
purpose  to  so  arrange  the  terms  of  the  motif  that 
there  shall  be  a  rhythmic  interrelation  between  the 
fishes  and  the  lines  indicating  the  water,  and  a  balance 
of  all  the  attractive  forces  involved  in  the  problem. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  this  balance  must  result  from 
sensitive  feeling  and  good  judgment,  not  from  mathe- 
matical calculations.      It  would  be  well  to  make  a  first 

attempt  through 
the  limitations 
of  a  black  and 
white  composi- 
tion, as  in  Fig- 
ure 122.  The 
water  is  repre- 
sented by  lines 
that  may  be  used 
to  strengthen  or  check  the  general  movement  of  the 
design.  The  eye  moves  most  rapidly  along  parallel 
lines,  or  slightly  diverging  lines  that  tend  to  meet  at 
a  common  point. 

With  the  addition  of  two  or  more  values,  the 
possibilities  of  the  problem,  and,  by  the  same  token, 
its  difficulties,  increase.  A  greater  number  and  variety 
of  attractive  forces  call  for  attention.  The  different 
tone  contrasts  that  arise  must  be  dealt  with ;  lights  are 
to  be  broken  with  darks,  darks  with  lights.    Until  one 


Fig.  122. 


2i6     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

has  given  thoughtful  attention  to  the  solution  of  a 
problem  of  this  kind,  it  is  hard  to  realize  the  varia- 
tions that  may  be  given  a  composition  of  two  or 
three  flat  tones.  Let  us  attempt  nothing  of  a  pictorial 
nature.     These  are  designs,  not  pictures. 

As  self-criticism  is  one  of  the  chief  aims  in  the 
study  of  a  design,  it  would  be  well  to  enter  into  a 
more  detailed  account  of  the  solutions  of  the  problem 
shown  in  Plates  51,  52,  53,  54.  Unity  was  the  first 
consideration,  a  consistent  relation  of  all  the  forces,  a 
reason  for  each.  Variety  was  sought  in  the  shapes, 
measures,  tones,  and  positions  of  the  different  elements. 
Note  the  grouping  of  fishes  in  each  example,  and  the 
contrasts  in  each  of  shape,  measure,  and  tone.  Forces 
are  related  in  movement  though  not  pointed  in  the 
same  direction.  In  Plate  51  the  movement  of  the  water 
adds  a  touch  of  variety  to  a  result  in  which  the  fishes 
follow  parallel  lines.  In  this  example,  though,  there 
is  more  variety  in  the  measures  and  shapes  than 
in  the  others.  The  measure  of  the  large  fish  was 
neutralized  by  giving  a  greater  tone  contrast  to  the 
smaller  ones.  These  three  little  fishes  probably  exert 
as  strong  an  attractive  force  in  the  design  as  the  two 
large  fishes.  These  are  all  points  that  arise  in  a  so- 
lution of  the  problem  demanding  an  application  of 
sensitive  feeling  and  good  judgment. 

In  rendering,  the  tones  should  be  flat  and  clear  in 


PLATE  55. 
Japanese  Fish  Print. 


FROM    THE    PARTS   TO    THE   WHOLE     217 

statement.  Lay  a  wash  of  the  lightest  value  first  over 
the  entire  figure.  Then,  keeping  in  mind  the  parts 
that  are  to  remain  in  this  value,  lay  the  next  wash 
over  everything  else. 

If  we  seek  examples  of  such  work  as  this,  decorative 
rather  than  pictorial,  for  purpose  of  study,  it  would  be 
well  to  turn  again  to  the  Japanese  workers  (Plate 
55).  It  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  understand  all 
that  such  a  piece  of  work  has  to  say  until  he  has  tried 
to  speak  for  himself  in  similar  terms. 


CHAPTER   XI 

From  the  Whole  to  the  Parts 

"  Conventionality  in  ornament  is  the  natural  consequence 
of  reticence  or  self-restraint,  of  doing,  not  all  that  the  artist 
could  have  done,  but  just  v^^hat  is  called  for  by  the  occasion.*' 

—  Lewis  Day. 

IN  the  last  chapter  it  was  said  that  there  were  two 
methods  of  developing  a  surface  pattern :  one  by 
starting  with  the  details  and  working  toward  the 
whole  through  the  building  up  of  related  lines  and 
forms  in  space  and  mass  ;  the  other  by  striking  at 
once  for  the  big  things  and  gradually  breaking  the 
measures  of  space  and  mass  to  the  last  details.  But, 
though  the  methods  differ,  the  aims  are  the  same,  — 
a  unity  of  all  the  elements  involved.  The  first  method 
is  valuable  for  experimental  purposes  and  should  pre- 
cede the  second  in  the  study  of  design,  as  it  is  a  logical 
development  from  simple  to  more  complex  questions. 
But  it  should  lead  to  an  ability  to  design  by  the  other 
method.  It  is  always  desirable  to  work  from  the 
whole  to  the  parts,  to  plan  the  big  relations  and  forms 
first,  and  then,  to  the  idea  thus  expressed,  relate  the 
minor  details. 

It  is  now  proposed  to  discuss  the  development  of 

218 


FROM   THE   WHOLE   TO   THE   PARTS     219 

a  pattern  by  the  second  method  (Figure  123).  A 
greater  degree  of  skill  and  judgment  is  demanded  than 
before.  This  is  a  rhythmic  design  of  black  and  white 
elements,  in  which  the  white  is  of  dominant  interest, 
but  in  which  the  distribution,  the  shapes,  and  measures 
of  black  have  demanded  an  equal  amount  of  care.  A 
description  of  this  method  of  working  with  illustrations 
showing  the  evolution  of  the  design  from  its  first  idea 
may  be  interesting  and  profitable.  It  may  well  be 
assumed  that  the  method  is  in  accord,  aside  from 
questions  involved  in  the  technique  of  weaving,  with 
that  pursued  by  the  designers  of  the  old  textiles.  We 
may  be  sure  that  they  worked  from  the  whole  to  the 
parts,  from  big,  general  forms  to  specific  details. 
They  had  learned  to  think  in  terms  of  design,  and 
Nature  stood  always  at  hand  to  strengthen  their  imagi- 
nations and  suggest  details  that  would  add  the  final 
touch  of  life  and  interest  to  the  work  of  their  hands. 
We  do  not  care  to  ask  whether  their  designs  are  "  based 
on  the  rose,"  or  on  any  other  particular  specimen  of 
natural  growth.  They  are  beautiful  in  all  that  counts 
for  unity  in  design.  They  are  based  on  a  sympathetic 
observation  of  Nature  and  not  on  a  painstaking  ana- 
lytical study  of  natural  forms,  as  in  so  many  of  the 
conventionalizations  of  the  modern  worker. 

The    present  design  represents    a    problem    of  an 
abstract  character  into  which  Nature  enters  as  fiction 


2t20     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


Fig.  123. 


FROM   THE   WHOLE   TO   THE    PARTS     221 


rather  than  as  fact.  If  it  has  any  style,  it  is  the  result 
of  a  thoughtful  adjustment  of  tones,  measures,  and 
shapes,  in  accordance  with  the  few  simple  principles 
that  have  been  de- 
fined. It  started 
with  this  motif, — 
two  birds  and  a  nest. 
There  was  ho  re- 
straint imposed  by 
an  adherence  to  the 
specific  character  of 
any  bird  or  nest. 
It  seemed  better  to 
allow  the  forms  of 
the  motif  to  de- 
velop as  the  de- 
mands of  sound 
construction  might 
suggest,  leaving 
something  for  the 
imagination.  With 
this      thought     in  ^^^•'=^- 

mind,  the  main  construction  lines  were  established  first 
of  all  (Figure  124).  To  insure  a  regular  repetition  of 
a  motif  a  geometric  constructive  basis  must  be  accepted 
as  the  first  element  in  the  problem.  Two  geometric 
bases  of  a  repeating  character  are  shown  in  Figure  125. 


222     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 


In  the  completed  design  this  geometric  basis  may  or  may 
not  appear  to  the  casual  observer.  During  the  de- 
velopment of  a  pattern  other  interrelations  of  line  and 

form,  constructive  in 
character,  may  be  em- 
phasized and  the  origi- 
nal basis  subordinated 
Fig.  125.  or  even  lost  entirely  from 

sight.  In  this  example,  though,  the  original  basis  re- 
mains as  a  distinc- 
tive feature  in  the 
result.  The  next 
step  was  to  seek  a 
few  tentative  lines 
to  define  the  forms 
and  positions  of  the 
birds,  their  relation 
to  the  big  move- 
ment and  to  each 
other.  The  tails 
were  planned  to 
cross  the  line  of  this 
movement  in  order 
to  break  its  monot- 
onous length. 

The   succeeding 
steps  are  shown  in  fig.  126. 


FROM   THE   WHOLE   TO   THE   PARTS     223 

Figure  126.  The  birds  were  given  a  more  distinctive 
character;  a  forecast  of  the  tone  distribution  was  made  ; 
each  additional  line  was  related  to  the  other  lines.  The 
size  and  form  of  the  mass  represented  by  the  three  eggs 
were  assumed,  and  the  space  of  black  below  this  mass 
was  broken  by  the  two  simple  leaf  forms.  Several  ex- 
periments were  tried  with  the  nest ;  but  the  most  con- 
sistent treatment  of  this  element  led  to  the  adoption 
of  an  abstract  symbol.  It  was  a  question  to  be  solved 
on  a  design  basis,  not  through  a  study  of  birds'  nests. 
Then  came  the  breaking  of  the  large  measures  of  white 
into  related  details,  and  a  binding  together  of  the  lines 
of  the  movement  by  the  twisted  leaf  stems.  In  the 
final  breaking  up  of  the  forms,  such  things  as  are 
shown  in  Figures  127,  128  from  Flemish,  Italian,  and 
Japanese  textiles,  and  in  Figure  1 29  some  bits  of  Japa- 
nese metal  work,  may  be  studied  with  profit.  In  these 
it  is  less  a  problem  of  wings  and  feathers  than  of  space 
and  mass ;  not  so  much  a  question  of  Nature  as  of 
tools  and  materials. 

Thus  we  have  a  result  that  may  serve  to  again  illus- 
trate the  difference  between  thinking  in  terms  of  design 
and  in  terms  of  Nature.  It  is  this  form  or  method  of 
thinking  that  one  should  aim  to  acquire.  A  painstak- 
ing study  of  Nature,  an  accumulation  of  facts,  will 
not  necessarily  lead  to  orderly  thought  in  design  or  to 
constructive  beauty  with  tools  and  materials.     It  may 


224     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


(^rv.A4h/  Fig. 


127. 


Fig.  128. 


FROM   THE   WHOLE   TO   THE    PARTS     225 

even  be  said  that  observation  is  often  strengthened  at 
the  expense  of  imagination  and  invention.  The  char- 
acter of  the  design  is  within  us.  There  is  no  reason 
why  one  should  not  make  a  record  of  facts  of  natural 
growths  and  forms  in  pencil,  pen  and  ink,  and  color. 
But  without  proper  digestive  assimilation,  those  facts. 


Fig.  129. 

however  interesting  they  may  be  on  their  own  account, 
are  of  little  use.  The  designer  must  be  a  keen  ob- 
server of  Nature,  — but  a  sympathetic  observer  withal. 
We  too  frequently  approach  Nature  with  a  scalpel 
and  a  microscope,  thinking  that  we  may  find  weird  and 
unique  forms  that  no  one  else  has  ever  used  in  design, 
thus  stamping  our  work  with  peculiar  distinction.  We 
analyze  the  wing  of  a  fly,  hoping  to  find  there  material 
of  some  sort  that  is  ready-made  for  purposes  of  design 
without  the  interplay  of  imagination  and  invention. 
To  illustrate  this  point  let  us  compare  the  work  of 


226     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

two  carvers  who  were  probably  about  contemporaneous 
in  point  of  time  but  widely  separated  in  aims  and 
methods  (Plates  56  and  57).  The  first  is  the  work  of 
a  Renaissance  carver,  the  second  of  a  Japanese  carver. 
Each  is  fairly  representative  of  the  ideals  toward  which 
the  craftsmen  worked.  If  there  is  any  distinction  in 
words,  the  first  might  be  called  elegant,  the  second 
beautiful.  Each  is  a  piece  of  consummate  craftsman- 
ship, perfect  in  execution  and  finish. 

The  first  is  a  bit  of  descriptive  carving,  an  accumu- 
lation of  facts  of  observation  expressed  in  wood  with 
remarkable  skill.  The  foot  with  its  hair  and  claws  is 
wonderfully  carved,  leaves  are  exquisitely  turned,  feath- 
ers delicately  executed.  But  the  carver's  imagination 
did  not  rise  very  far  above  the  facts  of  form  and  tex- 
ture. His  hand  was  sure  in  the  execution  of  such 
things.  But  he  had  very  little  to  say  beyond  that. 
Lacking  a  sympathetic  imagination,  he  sought  to  give 
distinction  to  his  work  by  elegance  of  lines  and  an  in- 
congruous association  of  forms.  In  the  history  of  de- 
sign, the  surest  evidence  of  a  declining  imaginative 
power  is  to  be  found  in  this  hashing  together  of  un- 
related facts  and  forms.  This  style  of  work,  of  which 
the  carving  here  shown  is  a  comparatively  sane  ex- 
ample, went,  in  times  of  later  decadence,  to  absurd 
extremes. 

In  the  second  example,  though,  there  is  evidence 


PLATE  56. 
Renaissance  Carving,  Florence. 


PLATE  58. 
Sixteenth-Century  Japanese  Carving. 


FROM   THE   WHOLE   TO   THE    PARTS     227 

of  feeling,  emotion,  imagination  of  the  highest  order. 
We  may  admire  the  technical  excellence  of  the  first ; 
but  in  the  second  our  interest  is  in  the  idea  which  the 
carver  has  sought  to  express.  He,  too,  must  have 
known  all  the  facts  of  his  motif;  he  was  a  keen  ob- 
server ;  but  he  did  not  choose  to  tell  all  that  he  knew. 
It  was  the  spirit,  the  poetry  of  Nature  that  appealed 
to  him,  the  charm  of  the  Mother  Carey's  Chickens 
flitting  back  and  forth  through  the  wave  crests.  To 
him  the  birds  and  the  water  became  symbols,  a  mere 
means  to  an  end,  for  the  expression  of  rhythmic  move- 
ment. He  sought  an  arrangement  of  lines  and  forms 
that  would  give  true  character  and  style  to  his  idea. 
Note  the  beautiful  line  relations  throughout,  between 
the  birds  and  the  water,  the  consistent  simplicity  of  all 
the  details.  "  Not  as  I  am,"  Nature  might  say,  "  but 
as  I  should  like  to  be." 

Similar  in  character  and  purpose  are  the  Japanese 
carvings  in  Plates  58,  59.  These  things  have  real 
"  soul  stuff"  in  them  of  a  sort  that  comes  from  a  sym- 
pathetic understanding  of  Nature.  The  strong  per- 
sonality of  an  artist  is  carved  into  every  line  and  form. 
It  may  be  said  that  Plate  59  is  too  plastic  in  treatment 
for  a  wood  carving.  One  must  see  the  original  (Bos- 
ton Museum  of  Fine  Arts)  to  fully  appreciate  the 
technical  qualities  of  the  work.  Every  line  and  plane 
is  turned  to  make  the  most  of  the  grain  and  texture  of 


228     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

the  wood.  Moreover,  as  this  carving  was  to  be  ex- 
posed to  the  weather,  the  craftsman  foresaw  the  part 
that  Father  Time  would  play  in  his  work  and  so  ad- 
justed his  planes  that  storm  and  sunshine  should  en- 
hance its  beauty. 


Fig.  130. 


Problem.  In  the  presentation  of  problems  like  this 
one  much  is  left  to  the  imagination  and  invention  of 
the  worker.  It  is  sufficient  to  suggest  as  a  motif  a 
simple  statement  such  as  boat^  sail,  wave.  If  the  aim  of 
the  problem  is  understood,  —  namely,  a  constructive  ar- 
rangement of  lines  and  forms,  spaces  and  masses  bound 


FROM   THE   WHOLE   TO   THE   PARTS     229 

together  through  the  reciprocal  relation  of  the  various 
elements  into  unity, —  considerable  opportunity  occurs 
for  individual  application  of  the  idea.  Definiteness  is 
the  first  thought,  not  a  pictorial  row  of  boats  in  a 
sketchy  semblance  to  water.  Each  line  and  form  has 
to  be  studied  carefully,  and  the  part  it  contributes  to 
the  oneness  of  the  design  becomes  important.     Lack- 


FiG.  131. 

ing  a  thorough  organization  of  all  the  elements  in- 
volved, the  result  will  be  little  more  than  a  row  of  sail 
boats.  In  the  examples  shown  (Figures  130,  131)  one 
may  note  clearly  the  means  employed  to  achieve  unity. 
The  boat  itself  may  retain  features  peculiar  to  a  par- 
ticular type  of  boat,  or  it  may  become  very  abstract  in 
its  final  rendering.  This  depends  upon  the  individual 
and  the  clearness  of  his  understanding  of  elementary 


230     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

principles.  This  motif,  in  its  presentation,  is  typical 
of  many  others  that  may  suggest  possibilities  of  indi- 
vidual interpretation.  Such  motifs  as  two  birds  in  a 
cherry  tree,  or  hen  in  the  grass  with  corn  are  sufficient 
to  arouse  latent  ideas  and  give  the  imagination  exer- 
cise. 


CHAPTER   XII 

Lines  of  Study 

"The  spontaneity  of  undeveloped  feculty  does  not  count 
for  much.  It  carries  us  only  a  little  way.  Let  no  one  be- 
lieve that  without  study  and  practice  in  design  he  can  recog- 
nize and  appreciate  what  is  best  in  design." 

—  Denman  Ross. 

THE  Student  will  find  it  profitable  to  pursue 
his  study  at  all  times  along  four  closely  re- 
lated lines.  These  lines  of  study  have  been 
indicated  in  the  development  of  text  and  problems  to 
the  present  point ;  it  now  remains  to  summarize  them 
briefly  :  — 

(i)  A  study  of  line,  form,  and  tone  composition  for 
the  definition  of  aesthetic  principles. 

(2)  A  study,  through  actual  practice  and  constant 
observation,  of  the  practical  principles  involved  in  con- 
structive work.  In  the  union  of  the  aesthetic  and  the 
practical  is  the  end  sought. 

(3)  A  study  of  the  work  of  the  past,  not  from  a 
superficial  historic  ornament  point  of  view,  —  rather  to 
learn  something  of  the  principles  involved  in  the  pro- 
duction of  work  in  the  past,  what  design  meant  to  the 

231 


232     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

people,  what  sort  of  life  and  thought  it  expresses,  the 
conditions  from  which  the  work  was  an  organic 
growth,  in  fact  all  the  influences  that  contributed  to 
give  unique  distinction  to  that  work.  More  impor- 
tant than  the  outward  forms  of  ornament  are  the  ques- 
tions of  how,  when,  and  why  ornament  was  employed. 
To  this  study  one  would  naturally  apply  the  aesthetic 
and  practical  principles  acquired  through  practice ;  an 
appreciation  of  the  work  of  the  past  broadens  with 
one's  own  experience. 

The  study  along  this  line  should  be  deep  and  con- 
tinuous,—  from  the  point  of  view  of  history,  geog- 
raphy, archaeology,  ethnology.  Many  influences  were 
combined  in  the  development  of  what  we  term  a  style 
or  period. 

The  needs  of  primitive  people  are  very  much  the 
same,  —  food,  clothing,  shelter.  These  are  obtained 
from  materials  immediately  available  with  tools  and 
processes  of  a  simple  nature.  The  resultant  forms 
are  much  the  same  under  similar  climatic  conditions 
and  environments.  The  stone  age,  the  iron  age, — 
these  terms  have  no  special  place  in  point  of  time ; 
each  has  been  repeated  in  widely  separated  places 
through  the  centuries  from  preglacial  times  to  the 
present.  As  needs  become  peculiar,  so  the  forms  of 
primitive  art  become  distinctive,  —  here  a  hunting 
people  of  the  plains,  there  a  fishing  people ;  again  a 


LINES   OF  STUDY  233 

nomadic  people  of  the  desert  with  their  flocks.  There 
were  those  who  dwelt  on  the  mountains,  on  the  lakes, 
in  the  cold  of  northern  climes ;  each  followed  the  line 
of  least  resistance  in  the  development  of  art  forms, 
each  form  the  logical  outcome  of  the  environment  in 
which  the  primitive  man  found  himself. 

Gradually  at  different  epochs  in  history  one  people 
after  another  has  settled  into  conditions  insuring  per- 
manence in  the  practice  of  the  arts.  Shelter  becomes 
building,  and  building  in  turn  becomes  architecture. 
Rude  implements  give  way  to  better  made  tools ; 
new  materials  are  discovered,  new  processes  invented ; 
permanent  institutions  arise,  the  outlook  upon  the 
world  broadens,  ideas  become  crystallized,  a  language 
of  signs  and  symbols  appears.  Those  races  which 
become  most  virile  express  their  decided  convictions 
in  their  art. 

There  comes  expansion  through  conquest  and  com- 
merce, each  leaving  its  trace  in  the  arts  of  different 
peoples.  A  powerful  nation  impresses  its  ideas  upon 
conquered  nations,  or  acquires,  through  conquest  or 
peaceful  channels,  ideas  and  forms  that  are  assimilated 
by  its  own  workers.  A  raid  upon  an  unprotected 
corner  of  the  Roman  Empire  gives  spoils  to  some  bar- 
baric tribe  in  Scandinavia,  —  and  with  the  spoils  comes 
a  new  influence  that  appears  as  a  modification  of  forms 
which  those    people    have    developed.     From    Persia 


234     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND    PRACTICE 

and  India  caravans  brought  wares  which  inevitably  in- 
fluenced in  design  and  technique  the  work  of  the 
western  world.  The  pomegranate,  the  peacock,  the 
palm,  the  many  symbols  of  Persian  art  appearing  in 
the  product  of  the  Flemish  weaver,  may  indicate  an  in- 
fluence from  afar.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  cara- 
vans wended  their  way  home  across  the  desert  they  in 
turn  took  products  that  leave  an  influence  sifting 
through  India  even  to  Korea  and  Japan.  But  these 
influences  were  assimilated  with  ideas  already  well 
established,  —  and  by  practical  workers  who  welcomed 
a  fresh  incentive.  It  was  generally  an  indirect  in- 
fluence, or  the  new  forms  were  soon  interwoven  with 
and  lost  in  the  creative  work  of  those  who  borrowed 
them.  It  was  a  different  sort  of  thing  from  the  eflfbrt 
of  the  modern  worker  to  achieve  through  scholarly  re- 
search a  direct  imitation  or  adaptation  of  forms  and 
symbols  which  have  long  since  ceased  to  be  vital. 

At  all  times  in  the  course  of  that  which  we  call  a 
style  was  a  real  need,  a  vital  thought.  The  rugs  of 
Persia  were  attributable  to  the  conditions  of  that 
country,  —  with  the  hair  of  the  goat  and  the  camel, 
with  a  nomadic  tent  life,  the  weaving  of  rugs  followed 
as  a  natural  sequence,  —  and  with  these  conditions 
prevailing  for  centuries  the  consummate  skill  and  feeling 
came  about  naturally.  Each  individual  had  back  of 
him  the  traditions  of  many  generations  ;   into   these 


LINES   OF   STUDY  235 

traditions  of  a  technical  and  artistic  nature  he  implanted 
some  little  of  his  own  personality.  Changes  of  line, 
form,  pattern  were  not  radical ;  they  were  gradual,  — 
slight  changes  sometimes  covering  many  generations 
of  workers.  Things  were  not  ordered  on  Monday  to 
be  done  at  10  a.m.  on  Wednesday,  whether  or  no. 

Again,  the  wonderful  creative  work  of  the  middle 
ages  was  fostered  in  the  quiet  of  the  monasteries. 
Each  monastery  was  sufficient  for  its  own  needs ;  the 
inmates  tilled  the  soil,  practiced  the  building  arts,  and 
in  their  shops  continued  the  practice  of  many  crafts. 
As  the  conditions  of  life  became  more  settled  and  pros- 
perity came  again  to  the  land  the  operations  of  the 
monasteries  broadened.  But  for  many  years  in  the 
cathedral  building  the  individual  was  subordinate  to 
the  whole.  Each  individual  tried  hard  to  express  the 
dominant  idea  about  him,  subject  to  the  ensemble. 

In  Japan  there  came  again  a  peculiar  combination 
of  circumstances  which  brought  another  creative  period 
or  style  into  being,  as  distinctive  in  thought  and 
expression  as  was  the  mediaeval  from  the  primitive.  But 
the  lesson  is  ever  the  same,  —  a  vital  art  has  ever  been 
the  direct  expression  of  the  thought,  feeling,  en- 
vironment in  which  it  was  created.  Other  things  have 
merely  influenced  it. 

Conditions  have  indeed  materially  changed.  The 
term  local  has  a  broader  significance.     Cities  that  were 


236     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

once  nations  in  themselves  have  long  since  been 
absorbed  in  wider  boundaries.  Transportation  facili- 
ties, invention,  mechanical  processes,  have  contributed 
to  spread  the  world's  art  on  our  library  tables.  The 
very  surfeit  of  examples  makes  it  more  difficult  than 
ever  to  build  upon  real  needs.  We  follow  the  line  of 
least  resistance  by  appropriating  whatever  we  find  that 
seems  adapted  to  our  purposes. 

The  past  should  influence  us  strongly  and  deeply. 
But  it  should  be  known  that  the  past  has  no  patent  on 
beauty.  Many  unworthy,  positively  ugly  things  are 
preserved  for  our  inspection.  It  may  be  taken  for 
granted  that  the  work  of  the  past  as  a  whole  is  more 
beautiful  than  the  work  of  the  present.  There  were 
fewer  inutilities ;  things  were  made  because  they  filled 
a  real  need.  The  steps  from  producer  to  consumer 
were  simpler ;  the  bonds  uniting  them  were  more  inti- 
mate, and  the  men  who  used  tools  had  greater  oppor- 
tunity and  incentive  to  exercise  a  creative  faculty. 
Nevertheless  there  is  decadence  as  well  as  true  growth. 
It  is  for  us  to  sift  the  good  things  from  the  bad,  seek 
the  principles  involved  in  their  construction,  refinement, 
and  enrichment.  But  let  us  not  sneak  in  at  the  back 
door  with  a  scrap  of  tracing  paper  and  appropriate  for 
our  own  use  those  things  we  find. 

Can  we  not  do  as  well  as  those  old  craftsmen  ? 
Probably  not;  but  we  can  at  least  try  hard  to  clothe 


LINES   OF   STUDY  237 

such  ideas  as  we  have  in  a  simple  and  consistent  garb. 
The  world's  art  that  is  loved  best,  —  that  which  appeals 
to  the  heart  with  a  human  interest,  —  was  done  by- 
craftsmen  who  were  trying  to  give  adequate  and  beau- 
tiful expression  to  their  ideas.  They  lived  their  simple 
lives,  met  their  daily  problems,  and  passed  away  ;  now 
we  treasure  the  things  they  did  and  call  it  art. 

( 4 )  A  close,  sympathetic  study  of  Nature.  Noth- 
ing is  too  small  or  trivial  in  Nature  to  pass  unnoted. 
The  hand  of  a  Master  designer  is  everywhere  appar- 
ent, —  nothing  is  left  to  chance.  The  art  of  the 
designer  involves  both  selection  and  invention.  He 
may  select  materials  appropriate  to  the  problem  which 
he  has  in  hand ;  but  he  must  bring  to  bear  upon  them 
an  artistic  invention  which  comes  from  his  own  thought 
and  feeling.  He  may  select  from  Nature  forms  which 
seem  suitable  for  his  purpose  in  design,  either  through 
an  almost  literal  interpretation  or  through  complete 
conventionalization ;  or  he  may  draw  upon  his  own 
imagination  for  forms,  which  come  perhaps  indirectly 
from  Nature.  In  either  case  the  measure  of  his  inven- 
tion is  what  gives  character  to  the  result. 

One  may  study  Nature  from  an  analytical  point  of 
view, —  a  seeking  for  pattern,  for  unique  forms,  for 
color  principles.  But  the  student  should  not  always 
approach  Nature  with  the  question,  "  Can  I  use  this 
in  design  ? "     He  should  not  be  possessed  with  the 


238     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

idea  that  Nature  is  something  to  be  conventionalized. 
Many  of  the  results  of  his  study  may  never  be  directly 
used.  It  is  enough  that  he  has  been  in  close  touch 
with  the  spirit  of  Nature,  the  grace  and  beauty  of  the 
life  about  him.  If  he  has  caught  the  fleeting  beauty 
of  leaf  and  flower,  he  has  added  to  his  equipment  some- 
thing that  will  inevitably  appear  in  his  work ;  his  mind 
has  been  refreshed,  his  imagination  awakened.  An 
effort  to  paint  the  flying  cloud  shadows  on  a  pasture 
hillside  may  appear  in  a  designer's  work  to  quite  as 
much  purpose  as  a  microscopic  examination  of  a  bee's 
wing  in  search  of  a  pattern  for  immediate  use.  He 
will  find  his  mind  alert  for  suggestions,  himself  in  inti- 
mate companionship  with  Nature,  —  and  if  his  study  has 
been  of  the  right  sort,  his  work  will  respond  with  fresh 
interest  and  vigor  whether  he  "  conventionalizes " 
Nature  or  seeks  within  his  own  mind  for  the  desired 
forms. 

Problem.  In  studying  the  work  of  the  past  the 
student  should  keep  in  touch  with  those  things  most 
in  accord  with  his  own  experience.  Up  to  the  problems 
of  Chapter  VIII  primitive  work  offers  the  most  helpful 
material.  With  the  problem  of  Chapter  IX  a  new 
thought  in  the  use  of  lines  and  forms  opens,  and  the 
student  may  profitably  turn  to  mediaeval  work,  to  the 
products  of  the  Renaissance,  and  to  Oriental  work. 
A  study  of  mediaeval  and  Oriental  textiles  opens  one's 


PLATE  60. 

Italian  Textile  —  Fourteenth  Century.     (South  Kensington 

Museum.) 


LINES    OF   STUDY 


239 


eyes  to  the  fact  that  invention  plays  a  greater  part  in 
design  than  mere  selection.  By  study  is  meant,  in 
this  case,  many  careful  sketches  in  pencil,  ink,  and 
color  of  motifs  and  completed  designs  in  various  ma- 
terials. The  purpose  of  such  work  is,  obviously,  to  get 
into  close  sympathy  with  the  products,  study  the  motifs 
and  the  sources  from  which  the  ideas  were  derived, — 
to  put  one's  self,  in  a  certain  measure,  into  the  position 
of  the  old  designer.  Such  a  masterpiece  of  weaving  as 
the  Brocade  in  Plate  60  offers  food  for  thought  to  the 


Fig.  132. 


Student  who  goes  to  Nature,  expecting  to  find  designs 
ready-made.  The  assistance  furnished  here  by  Na- 
ture is  of  an  indirect  kind ;  mere  facts  of  observation 
have  counted  for  little.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
Indian  motifs  in  Figure  132.     There  was  no  clew  in 


240     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

any  natural  specimen  that  would  suggest  such  patterns; 
they  came  from  the  designer,  and  any  discussion  as  to 
whether  they  are  "  conventionalizations  "  of  this  or 
that  natural  specimen  is  of  archaeological  rather  than 
artistic  interest.  As  motifs  expressed  in  terms  of  de- 
sign they  may  be  considered  from  an  abstract  point  of 
view,  in  line  with  the  method  of  treatment  in  the  prob- 


FlG.  133. 

lems  of  this  book.  The  sketches  in  Figure  133  are 
of  the  same  sort ;  they  are  breakings  of  space  and 
mass  with  lines  and  forms,  the  terms  of  design  refined 
and  influenced  by  a  sympathetic  observation  of  Nature. 
The  pomegranate  motif  of  Figure  134  shows  how 
much  the  organization  of  the  design  depends  upon  the 
worker.  In  the  first  sketch  is  a  literal  pen  study  of  a 
pomegranate    cut  in  sections.     The  designer  has  re- 


LINES   OF  STUDY 


241 


tained  the  general  form  ;  but  as  a  study  in  the  spotting 
of  lights  and  darks  the  problem  came  home  to  the 
personality  of  the  worker,  —  it  was  his  invention,, 
imagination,  feeling,  expressed  through  a  technique 
peculiar  to  weaving  that  shaped  the  design. 

In  studying  such  things  it  would  be  well  to  attempt 
to  work  for  one's  self  in  the  mode  of  such  productions  ; 
note  always  how  the  elementary  principles  of  design 


Fig.  134. 

have  received  application  and  then  endeavor  to  work 
from  a  similar  point  of  view.  As  an  instance.  Figure 
135  may  serve  to  illustrate  the  thought.  The  first 
sketch  is  from  a  Persian  textile  ;  the  second,  made 
directly  after  the  first,  was  a  study  of  a  similar  big 
form  broken  into  subordinate  forms  in  a  way  that  one 
may  believe  was  followed  by  the  original  designer. 
The  result  is  not  far  removed  from  the  original ;  but 


242     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

the  second  suggested  the  third,  and  this  in  turn  a 
fourth,  and  so  on  through  a  series  of  six  or  eight 
studies,  the  invention  of  the  pupil  being  awakened  with 
each  effort  to  new  suggestions  and  variations.  As  an 
exercise  the  problem  has  served  its  purpose  ;  it  is  not 
the  intention  to  "adapt"  a  Persian  motif,  —  rather,  to 
find,  if  possible,  how  the  Persian  designer  achieved 
such  a  result. 

Following  such  a  series  of  studies  the  pupil  is  in 


IFom,  «.FVr3iea2 Textile  •     Abstr&ct  lorros  Su^ested  by 

Fig.  135. 


5dja«' 


position  to  apply  the  thought  to  work  of  his  own ; 
his  study  of  Nature  will  now  assist  him  materially  ;  his 
invention  and  command  of  principles  through  practice 
should  lead  to  an  infinite  number  of  well-organized 
forms,  breakings  of  light  with  dark  and  dark  with  light 
as  the  details  develop.  Figure  136  indicates  a  few 
from  many  such  studies  and  shows  the  wide  range  of 
individual  thought.      They  are  "  original,"  in  the  true 


PLATE  6i. 
Coptic  Weaving.     (South  Kensington  Museum.) 


LINES   OF   STUDY 


243 


sense  of  the  word,  intelligent  efforts  to  work  from  the 
whole  to  the  parts  through  abstract  principles. 


Fig.  136. 

Continuing  the  thought  into  a  result  involving  a 
more  severe  test,  the  Coptic  weaving  in  Plate  6 1  may 
serve  a  purpose.  It  is  a  symmetrical,  space-filling 
problem  with  flat  areas  and  a  grouping  of  dominant 


244     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

masses,  with  a  consistent  growth  suggested  throughout. 
The  process  is  from  the  whole  to  the  parts,  as  before. 
It  should  begin  with  the  tentative  blocking  out  of  a 
few  leading  lines  of  growth,  an  indication  of  the  shapes, 
measures,  and  positions  of  the  dominant  masses  and  a 


Fig.  137. 

gradual  subdivision  of  forms.  It  is  necessary  to  keep 
both  space  and  mass,  dark  and  light,  in  mind  at  all 
stages,  working  from  one  to  the  other.  This,  like  any 
other  design,  should  be/(?//  out  from  tentative  suggestions 
to  the  completed  result.    With  the  blocking  in  of  the 


LINES   OF   STUDY 


245 


first  idea  the  worker  should  be  alive  to  any  change  that 
suggests  itself;  he  should  be  able  to  recognize  and  seize 
upon  any  variation  that  may  lend  additional  interest  or 


^S£i? 


^^^^ 


Fig.  138. 


beauty  to  his  work.  The  first  tentative  lines  may  give 
way  to  an  entirely  different  adjustment  as  the  design 
progresses.  It  is  better  to  be  able  to  adapt  one's  self  to 
a  new  version  of  an  idea  that  may  develop  with  the 


246     DESIGN    IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

process  than  to  be  enslaved  to  a  "  leading  line/*  or  to 
stubbornly  push  a  first  idea  through  all  suggestions. 
Throughout  the  process  there  should  be  a  measure  of 


Fig.  139, 


elasticity,  the  parts  of  the  design  should  be  in  about 
the  same  state  of  completion  at  a  given  time,  —  not  a 
carefully  wrought  detail  in  one  place,  with  chaos  and 
indecision  elsewhere.     And  in  the  end  there  should  be. 


LINES   OF   STUDY 


247 


Fig.  140. 


as    always,  a  clear,    definite,    unmistakable  statement. 
Figures  137, 138,  139, 140  show  various  solutions  of  the 


■I  II  t      I 

Fig.  141. 


248     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 


Fig.  142. 


Fig.  143. 


PLATE  62. 
Abstract  Nature  Forms. 


LINES   OF   STUDY  249 

problem  as  suggested,  —  with  a  slightly  different  solu- 
tion though  from  the  same  point  of  view  in  Plate  62. 
Problem.     This,    the    final    problem  of  the  series. 


Fig.  144. 


is  more  fully  illustrated  than  any  of  the  others  because 
it  represents  a  test  of  ability  to  apply  the  principles 
outlined  in  this  book  to  the  organization  of  an  idea 


250     DESIGN   IN   THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

involving  many  and  real  difficulties.  The  results  are  by 
pupils  who  have  conscientiously  followed  work  along 
the  lines  indicated  through  this  book,  and  go  to  show 


FIG.  145. 


an  intelligent,  individual  expression  of  a  thought  in 
terms  of  design.  The  motif  suggested  was  — peacock. 
Whether  or  not  the  expression  of  the  motif  should 
approach    the   specific   character  of  this  bird  or  pass 


PLATE  64. 
Peacock  Derivative. 


PLATE  65. 
Peacock  Derivative. 


LINES   OF   STUDY 


251 


into  a  highly  organized  arrangement  more  or  less 
abstract  in  character  was  left  to  the  personal  choice 
of  each  pupil.     The  results  in  Plates  S^y  64,  6^y  and 


Fig.  146, 


in  Figures  141  to  145  inclusivestand  as  a  summing  up 
in  graphic  form  of  the  principles  defined  and  the 
problems  through  which  they  have  been  presented. 


252     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 


Each  example  is  a  study 
in  space  and  mass,  an 
adjustment  of  lines  and 
forms.  Note  the  recipro- 
cal relations  of  details  in 
each ;  the  ways  in  which 
unity  with  variety,  har- 
mony with  contrast,  has  been 
secured.  Each  detail  is 
part  of  an  organic  whole, 
in  which  all  superfluous  ele- 
ments have  been  eliminated. 
Figures  146,  147,  148 
represent  variations  of  the 
problem  without  the  sym- 
metrical plan. 

The  most  profitable  field 
for  the  study  of  the  peacock 


Fig.  148. 


LINES   OF   STUDY 


253 


Fig.  149. 


254     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

in  design   is  in  the  work  of  the  Orient,  particularly 
the  work  of  Persia  and  India.     In  Figure  149  are  a 


C<3irved  Wood 


Fig.  150. 


number  of  sketches  showing  the  form  adapted  to  vari- 
ous purposes.     In  Figure  150  are  two  sketches  of  the 


LINES  OF   STUDY 


^55 


Fig.  151. 


256     DESIGN   IN  THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

same  form  from  the  end  of  a  musical  instrument.  In 
Figure  151  is  an  inlaid  foot  of  a  table  leg  made  in  India, 
though  of  Portuguese  workmanship.     Figure  152  is 


Fig.  153. 


from  a  modern  wall  paper,  —  designer  unknown  to  the 
writer, —  an  interesting  treatment  of  this  motif  In 
Plate  66  is  a  symmetrical  expression  of  the  idea  in 


PLATE  66. 
Constructive  Application  of  Motif. 


LINES   OF   STUDY 


257 


beaten  copper  adapted  to  the  environment  in  which 
it  appears  and  to  the  form  of  which  it  is  a  part.  The 
two  last  illustrations  (Figures  153,  154)  form  a  fitting 


Fig.  Z53. 


Xn-^ 


tec 


258     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

climax  to  our  work  and  may  well  serve  as  a  final 
source  of  inspiration  in  the  study  of  and  practice  in 
the  aesthetic  principles  of  design. 


Fig.  154, 


CHAPTER   XIII 
Conclusion 

"  It  does  not  follow,  even  when  our  minds  ...  are 
stored  with  the  terms  and  the  motives  of  Design,  that  we 
shall  produce  anything  important  or  remarkable.  Important 
work  comes  only  from  important  people.  What  we  ac- 
complish, at  best,  is  merely  the  measure  and  expression  of 
our  own  personalities." — Denman  Ross. 

IT  is  apparent  that  the  most  interesting  work 
in  design  was  achieved  at  periods  when  work- 
men were  designers,  when  builders  were  archi- 
tects. There  was  no  such  word  or  thought  as  architect 
until  after  the  sixteenth  century.  This  combination, 
the  faculty  to  design  and  the  skill  to  execute,  lends 
interesting  and  fascinating  charm  to  primitive  work, 
to  the  peasant  industries,  now  fast  disappearing  under 
pressure  of  modern  factory  methods,  to  the  best  prod- 
ucts of  the  Orient,  and  to  the  work  of  the  mediaeval 
craftsmen. 

The  conditions  have  now  radically  changed.  Work- 
men have  ceased  to  be  designers  ;  builders  have  ceased 
to  be  architects ;  and  the  intimate  personality  which 
seems  to  be  the  very  life  of  fine  industrial  work  is 
seldom  found.     This  evolution,  the  separation  of  art 

259 


26o     DESIGN   IN  THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

from  industry,  was  of  gradual  development ;  it  is  only 
from  the  height  afforded  by  time  that  we  can  note  the 
subtle  steps  involved  in  the  transition. 

The  early  centuries  of  mediaeval  history  were  in 
a  period  of  reconstruction,  when  all  men  were  groping 
toward  an  expression  of  new  ideals.  In  later  centuries, 
with  traditions  acquired  through  hard-earned  experi- 
ence and  with  ideals  more  clearly  in  sight,  with  judg- 
ments strengthened  and  technical  difficulties  lessened, 
workmen  with  greater  ability  and  taste  than  their  fel- 
lows became  known  for  the  excellence  of  their  achieve- 
ments. Their  presence  was  sought  wherever  important 
work  was  under  way.  From  one  town  to  another 
they  wandered,  leaving  behind  them  a  trail  of  noble 
churches,  palaces,  fountains,  pulpits,  and  frescoes. 
And  as  these  men  did  more  of  the  thinking,  their 
fellows  did  less.  Still  later,  with  the  revival  of  classical 
traditions,  an  increase  of  luxury,  and  a  consequent 
shifting  of  standards,  the  pathway  to  artistic  renown 
ceased  to  lead  through  the  workshop.  But  for  a  long 
time,  during  a  period  of  notable  production  in  the 
early  days  of  the  Renaissance,  there  was  still  a  bond 
of  intimate  sympathy  between  the  artist  and  the  arti- 
san. Old  ties  and  traditions  were  not  easily  severed. 
Gradually,  however,  the  men  who  practiced  art  began 
to  depend  more  and  more  upon  a  theoretic  knowledge 
of  tools  and  materials,  while  the  men  who  knew  much 


CONCLUSION  261 

about  technical  processes  and  methods  of  construction 
concerned  themselves  less  and  less  with  the  abstract 
ideals,  the  principles  and  modes  of  expression  of  the 
artist.  It  has  been  left  for  us  in  modern  times  to 
add  the  final  step  in  the  transition,  with  arbitrary 
distinctions  between  fine  and  industrial  art,  and  sub- 
divisions of  labor  for  purposes  of  commercial  gain. 
One  wonders  if  the  skilled  craftsman  of  old  who  gave 
mind,  heart,  eye,  and  hand  to  his  work  is  to  be  entirely 
displaced  by  the  "  hand  "  whose  function  it  will  be  to 
feed  raw  material  into  one  end  of  a  machine  at  so 
much  per  day,  without  questioning  why  or  whence. 
It  is  an  odd  commentary  on  the  standards  by  which 
we  measure  our  present  civilization  that  our  material 
progress,  our  tremendous  strides  in  science  and  in  me- 
chanical invention,  have  contributed  nothing  to  our 
aesthetic  development ;  even  less  than  this,  —  have 
consistently  contributed  toward  a  lowering  of  artistic 
standards  and  the  degradation  of  the  skilled  craftsman 
to  the  position  of  an  unskilled  operative.  We  have 
printing  presses  that  are  marvels  of  mechanical  inven- 
tion, insuring  speed  and  accuracy  of  production;  but 
it  is  seldom  that  we  approach  the  artistic  standards  set 
by  the  old  printers  who  struggled  with  their  rude 
presses  in  the  early  days  of  the  craft  in  Augsberg, 
Bamberg,  and  Venice.  We  have  power  looms  that 
do  everything  but  think ;  yet  we  are  scarcely  within 


262     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND   PRACTICE 

reach  of  the  products  that  came  from  the  looms  of 
Persia,  Sicily,  and  Italy,  or  of  the  old  Flemish  textiles. 
Science  and  mechanical  invention  have  revolutionized 
metal  working ;  we  employ  processes  undreamed  of 
by  the  mediaeval  craftsmen ;  yet  they  left  behind  them 
standards  of  beauty  that  make  a  comparison  odious. 
Our  builders  have  perfected  devices  unknown  to  the 
master  builders  of  old ;  yet  we  never  cease  to  measure 
and  photograph  the  old  churches  and  palaces  with 
admiration  and  wonder. 

Thus  we  find  that  the  things  now  emphasized  in 
the  training  of  the  artist  are  no  longer  essential  to  the 
productive  efficiency  of  the  workman.  Art  and  in- 
dustry are  scarcely  on  speaking  terms ;  whenever  they 
meet  they  are  mutually  embarrassed  because  they  have 
no  topic  in  common  for  conversation.  Between  the 
shop-trained  man  and  the  studio-trained  man  there  is 
ever  a  lack  of  understanding  and  sympathy.  The 
artist  deplores  the  lack  of  feeling  and  good  taste  on 
the  part  of  the  workman  on  whom  he  depends  to 
execute  his  designs ;  the  latter  is  impatient  over  the 
lack  of  practical  knowledge  shown  by  the  artist. 
Both  are  right.  The  one  approaches  his  problem 
with  a  superficial  knowledge  of  technical  limitations 
and  possibilities  ;  the  other  in  the  acquisition  of  tech- 
nical skill  is  afforded  neither  opportunity  nor  incentive 
to  cultivate  a  fine  taste  or  an  artistic  judgment.     Some 


CONCLUSION  263 

day  we  shall  have  an  art  training  that  penetrates  into 
the  activities  of  daily  life,  based  on  the  shop  principles, 
though  not  necessarily  on  the  methods,  of  the  mediaeval 
crafts.  We  shall  think  none  the  less  of  an  art  that 
seeks  expression  in  terms  of  painting  and  sculpture  : 
but  we  shall  recognize  the  truth  that  art  rests  upon 
a  basis  broad  enough  to  encompass  all  of  man's 
activities. 

In  our  study  of  design  to-day  we  turn  to  the  studio 
for  our  traditions  rather  than  to  the  shop.  We  ap- 
proach the  subject  from  a  point  of  view  diametrically 
opposed  to  the  development  of  design  in  its  periods 
of  finest  production.  We  begin  by  drawing,  painting, 
and  modeling;  we  accumulate  studies  from  Nature, 
and  attempt  to  conventionalize  this  material  on  paper ; 
we  study  historic  ornament,  make  careful  copies  from 
the  various  historic  styles,  and  adapt  motifs  found 
through  this  process  to  our  own  needs ;  we  visit  shops 
and  factories  (sometimes)  and  listen  to  interesting  talks 
on  the  technique  of  carving,  weaving,  and  metal  work, 
on  the  relation  of  pattern  to  material ;  we  gather  from 
practice  in  the  "  arts  and  crafts  "  a  superficial  idea  of 
the  tools  and  materials  of  many  crafts,  but  have  no 
thorough  or  practical  knowledge  of  the  technical  de- 
mands of  any  one  craft.  We  aim  to  produce  studio- 
trained  craftsmen.  What  we  need  most  are  shop-trained 
artists.     The  examples  of  industrial  art  which  are  so 


264     DESIGN  IN  THEORY  AND   PRACTICE 

carefully  treasured  in  our  museums  and  galleries  were 
the  work  of  shop-trained  men,  not  of  studio-trained 
men. 

A  thoughtful  study  of  the  history  of  design  would 
seem  to  indicate  the  futility  of  trying  to  teach  design- 
ing through  a  paper  product  on  a  basis  of  theoretic 
knowledge  or  book-learned  information  as  to  tools, 
materials,  and  processes.  We  may  hope  to  define  ele- 
mentary principles  on  paper,  to  appreciate  and  express 
an  abstract  beauty  of  line,  form,  and  tone,  to  stimulate, 
in  some  measure,  the  imagination,  to  learn  the  value 
of  clear  and  orderly  thought ;  but  if  we  wish  to  go  be- 
yond this  abstract  expression,  let  it  be  on  a  basis  of 
practical  experience  in  constructive  work.  With  an 
experience  that  gives  one  command  over  the  practical 
principles  of  a  craft,  the  aesthetic  principles  learned 
through  the  solution  of  abstract  problems  may  be  given 
a  real  and  vital  application.  The  two  should  go  hand  in 
hand  in  order  that  there  may  be  an  immediate  and  effec- 
tive correlation  between  them.  Of  one  thing  you  may 
be  sure  :  if  you  can  impart  character  and  interest  to  the 
lines  and  forms  employed  in  the  definition  of  elemen- 
tary principles  under  the  comparatively  simple  limita- 
tions of  abstract  design,  you  will  find  that  much  has 
been  done  to  clarify  your  ideas  when  you  attempt  to 
speak  through  constructive  work.  The  underlying 
principles  of  composition  are  not  essentially  diflferent 


CONCLUSION  265 

whether  we  weave  an  idea  into  cloth,  beat  it  into  metal, 
or  carve  it  in  wood. 

It  is  well  here  to  direct  attention  to  some  of  the 
general  points  that  have  been  emphasized  throughout 
the  book.  It  will,  of  course,  be  understood  that  a  few 
typical  problems  only  have  been  chosen  to  indicate  a 
gradual  development  from  simple  beginnings  to  more 
complex  questions.  The  step  from  one  problem  to 
another  represents  merely  a  new  version  under  slightly 
varying  conditions  of  the  same  elementary  ideas. 
Each  art  rests  upon  principles  peculiar  to  itself,  in- 
herent within  the  tools,  materials,  and  constructive  pro- 
cesses involved.  The  principles  peculiar  to  one  art 
are  not  necessarily  applicable  to  another  art.  But 
somewhere  beneath  them  all  are  questions  common  to 
them  all.  We  sometimes  speak  of  the  principles  of 
architecture  as  applied  to  the  designing  of — a  book 
cover,  for  instance.  The  statement  is  misleading. 
The  principles  peculiar  to  architecture  are  not  applica- 
ble to  the  designing  of  a  book  cover.  Architecture  is 
an  art  of  wood,  stone,  brick,  concrete,  iron,  developed 
through  the  acceptance  of  conditions  that  have  given 
us  types  as  widely  divergent  as  the  Parthenon,  a  Cali- 
fornia bungalow,  and  a  Chinese  pagoda.  If  there  is 
any  relation  between  an  architectural  composition  and 
a  book  cover  design,  it  must  be  sought  in  principles 
that  are  common  to  both,  in  abstract  questions  that 


266     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

belong  to  one  quite  as  much  as  to  the  other.  There  is 
no  infallible  criterion  by  which  beauty  can  be  meas- 
ured ;  and  there  will  be  an  inevitable  disagreement  as 
to  a  definition  of  the  most  essential  of  the  elementary 
principles.  But  if  we  eliminate  the  questions  that  are 
peculiar  to  each  art  in  an  effort  to  define  aesthetic  prin- 
ciples that  are  common  to  the  practice  of  many  arts, 
we  shall  find  our  discussions  centering  about  the  com- 
position of  lines,  forms,  and  tones.  Something,  at  any 
rate,  has  been  done  if  we  can  find  through  practice  that 
there  is  some  common  principle  shared  by  the  work 
of  the  primitive  basket  maker,  the  textile  of  the  medi- 
aeval weaver,  and  the  carving  of  the  Japanese  artisan, 
—  that  the  product  of  each  is  an  interpretation  under 
diflFerent  conditions  and  influences  of  the  same  princi- 
ples of  composition.  The  things  that  count  for  beauty 
in  the  vigorous  expression  of  the  primitive  weaver  oc- 
cur again  in  the  work  of  the  Orient  —  but  infinitely 
more  subtle  and  refined. 

We  have  always  to  accept  with  a  grain  of  doubt 
the  judgment  of  an  individual  when  applied  to  the 
critical  study  of  design.  His  opinion  will  probably 
be  toned  by  his  own  practice  and  experience.  We 
have  likewise  to  question  our  own  free  choice.  The 
things  that  appeal  to  us  with  most  force  may,  indeed, 
narrow  our  judgment  when  applied  to  a  broader  field 
of  criticism.     Nor  can  we  accept  without  reserve  the 


CONCLUSION  267 

general  verdict  of  our  day.  There  was  a  time  when 
the  best  architects  of  England  were  building  classic 
temples  for  use  as  town  halls,  —  when  Gothic  was  a 
term  of  derision.  Even  now  there  are  those  who 
profess  to  find  neither  interest  nor  beauty  in  the  art 
of  Old  Japan. 

The  intent  of  a  design  should  be  clear ;  if  it  lacks 
interest,  there  is  still  hope  through  continued  practice. 
An  inarticulate,  mumbled  product  is  no  more  credit- 
able in  a  design  than  in  speech.  A  design  is  thought 
expressed  in  terms  of  line,  form,  and  tone,  because,  per- 
force, it  cannot  be  expressed  in  any  other  way.  If  the 
designer's  thought  is  not  clear  to  himself,  he  surely 
cannot  hope  to  make  it  clear  to  others,  and  cannot 
expect  others  to  interest  themselves  in  a  disorderly, 
mumbled  result.  A  clear  statement  of  an  inferior 
idea  is  preferable  to  a  vague,  indefinite  design  that  has 
to  be  reinforced  by  verbal  explanations.  An  unex- 
plained product  is  a  fair  index  to  a  designer's  thinking 
powers.  If  you  feel  that  you  have  fine  ideas,  but  that 
you  are  unable  to  give  them  adequate  expression  in 
terms  of  design,  —  try  something  else ;  Nature  never 
intended  that  you  should  be  a  designer.  It  is  safe  to 
assert  that  Nature  seldom  endows  a  man  with  brilliant 
ideas  without  furnishing  him  some  means  for  ex- 
pressing them  with  clearness. 

It  is  always  important  to  know  where  to  stop  in 


268     DESIGN   IN   THEORY   AND    PRACTICE 

design,  when  just  enough  has  been  said.  As  with  the 
painter,  one's  study  in  design  is  very  much  a  question 
of  eliminating  the  superfluous,  of  choosing  that  which  is 
most  essential.  Those  things  which  appear  to  be  simple 
and  spontaneous  are  often  the  result  of  years  of  training 
and  persistent  effort.  Question  the  reason  for  every 
element  that  enters  into  a  design ;  make  each  detail 
perform  consistent  service. 

Learn  the  value  of  concentration ;  furnish  the  eye 
with  a  dominant  thought  and  group  other  thoughts  in 
subordinate  relations. 

Do  not  deplore  lack  of  incentive,  lack  of  interest- 
ing materials.  The  world  is  full  of  noble,  inspiring 
ideas.  The  humble  plant  by  your  own  doorstep,  if 
you  know  how  to  use  it  to  good  advantage,  may  be 
given  quite  as  much  interest  in  design  as  the  Persians 
gave  to  the  pomegranate.  Look  about  you,  to  your 
own  environment,  for  motifs,  not  wander  afar. 

Last  of  all,  do  not  be  "  clever.  "  No  term  could 
be  more  of  a  reproach  in  art  than  this.  Art  is  pains- 
taking; it  demands  ceaseless  work,  toil,  drudgery  it 
may  be.  That  which  is  easiest  won  is  generally  least 
worth  while.  The  worker  must  ever  be  open-minded 
and  watch  against  clever  mannerisms  as  against  a 
drought  that  dries  up  the  river  at  its  source. 


INDEX 


Abstract  and  nature,  94,  137,  174,  181, 

185. 
Abstract  problems,  development  of,  63, 

116;   why  studied,  264. 
Adequacy  and  beauty,  18,  20. 
/Esthetic  and  practical,  55,  231,  264. 
^Esthetic  principles,  35. 
Amiens  Cathedral,   setting  out  plan, 

126. 
Animal  motifs,  19,  87,  156,  163. 
Art  nouveau,  142. 
Art  periods,  48. 

Backgroimds,  10,  182. 

Balance,  of  measures,  43,  177,  184,  191, 

213;  of  shapes,  42;  of  tones,  45,  159, 

207,  215. 
Basketry,  11,  82. 
Beauty,  6,  7,  18,  20,  22,  210. 
Bernard  Pahssy,  198. 
Bird  motif,  218. 

Blacksmith  in  mediaeval  times,  105. 
Borders,  14,  30,  50,  95,  137,  163,  228. 
Byzantine  mosaics,  67. 

Campanile,  37. 

Cathedrals,  beauty  of,  151;     practical 

and  aesthetic  development  of,  68. 
Combs,  primitive  workmanship,  79. 
Conclusion,  259. 
Conventionalization,  94,  137,   156,  163, 

171,  200,  238. 
Coptic  weaving,  130,  160. 
Comers,  treatment  of,  34. 
Creative  faculty,  5.  , 

Creative  work,  2. 
Curves,  38,  162,  184,  186. 

Dandng  masks,  146. 
Day,  Lewis  F.,  quoted,  170,  218. 
Design,  abstract  and  concrete,  16,  231; 
aims  of  study,  3, 16,  263;  and  nature, 


7;  constructive,  4,  17,  18,  20,  55,  64, 
131.  159.  160;  historic  development 
of,  22,  88,  170,  211,  231,  259;  method 
of  study,  7,  IS,  60,  166,  170,  231,  238; 
practice  of,  past  and  present,  2,  s,  67, 
72,  134,  147,151,  182,238,  258,  262; 
structure  of,  9. 

Design  and  representation,  3. 

Dominant  interest,  10,  14,  132,  222. 

Emerson,  quoted,  i,  149. 
Enrichment,  17,  21. 
Environment,  17. 

Floral  arrangements  of  Japanese,  183, 
Furniture,  56,  128,  129,  131. 

Geometric  bases,  202,  222. 
Glass,  91,  92. 
Greek  fret,  125. 
Greek  temple,  126. 
Grotesque  in  design,  141. 

Hairpins,  primitive  workmanship,  77. 
Harmony,  abstract,  47;   as  basis  of  art 

periods,  48;    of  measures,  122,  127; 

of  shapes,  47,  127;   of  tones,  48. 
Hegel,  quoted,  122. 
Hinges,  108,  115,  135,  172, 
Holmes,  W.  H.,  quoted,  74. 

Idea,  as  basis  for  design,  5,  17,  22,  37; 

and  nature,  170,  176. 
Imagination,  3,  150,  223,  226. 
Individuality,  49. 
Insect  motif,  94,  116. 
Introduction,  i. 
Invention,  14,  66,  76. 
Iron  work,  71,  105,  135,  144. 

Jackson,  quoted,  55. 

Japanese  floral  arrangements,  183. 


269 


270 


INDEX 


Japanese  print,  21. 

Japanese  sword  guards,  194,  225. 

Jewelry,  89. 

Joinery,  57. 

Knife,  Eskimo,  loi. 
Korean  cabinet,  124. 

Leather  work,  64. 
Lighting  problem,  22. 
Line  motif,  straight,  9,  30. 

Mass,  and  space,  10,  32,  50,  182. 

Match  safe,  161. 

Materials,  their  influence  in  design,  17, 
74- 

Mediaeval  crafts,  69,  105,  134,  153,  235, 
259. 

Mediaeval  craftsmen,  training  of,  153. 

Mommsen,  Theodor,  quoted,  141. 

Moore,  C.  H.,  quoted,  100. 

Morris,  William,  quoted,  16. 

Mosaics  of  San  Marco,  67. 

Motifs,  animal,  19,  156,  163;  boat, 
sail,  and  wave,  228;  derived  from 
study  of  past,  238;  fish  and  water, 
213;  flower,  bud,  and  leaf,  213;  in- 
sect, 93,  116;  nature  derived,  170, 
197,  213,  249;  nature  symbols,  185; 
peacock,  249;  pomegranate,  241; 
plant  form,  112;  primitive,  source  of, 
86;  straight  line,  9,  30;  suggested 
by  tools,  100;  three  berries  —  two 
leaves,  137,  200;  treatment  of,  in 
design,  172;  two  birds  and  a  nest, 
220. 

Nature,  and  the  abstract,  94;  and  the 
designer,  7,  28,  74,  93,  112,  137,  172, 
17s,  i8r,  197,  218,  236;  as  a  start- 
ing point,  7,  218 ;  balance  in,  43 ; 
plant  motifs  from,  112,  170,  188 ;  in 
primitive  designs,  86,  169;  in  terms 
of  design,  137, 156, 222 ;  study  of,  237. 

Necklace,  primitive,  74. 

Notre  Dame  of  Paris,  98,  iii,  126. 

Originality,  3,  9, 

Ornament,  as  enrichment  of  construc- 
tion, 21,  56,  58,  127,  133,  163;  his- 
toric, as  a  starting  point,  8,  231. 


Palazzo  Segredo,  15. 

Parts  to  the  whole,  200. 

Patterns,  paper  made,  16,  93. 

Peacock,  249. 

Periods,  formation  of,  232. 

Plant  form,  112,  170,  174, 

Play  impulse,  49,  141,  156,  163. 

Pomegranate,  241. 

Portuguese  inlay,  255. 

Pottery,  61,  63,  83,  127,  198. 

Primitive  work,  49;  American  Indians, 
S3,  80;  Benin,  148;  Eskimo,  loi; 
its  development,  80,  231;  Java,  20; 
northwest  coast  of  America,  18; 
Peru,  143,  160,  167;  rhythm  and 
balance  in,  43;  South  Sea  Islands, 
75,  77,  146,  160. 

Principles,  aesthetic  and  practical,  17, 
55,  231,  264;  common  to  many  arts, 
265;  elementary  aesthetic,  35. 

Problems,  abstract  nature  symbol,  137; 
abstract  plant  forms,    181,  189;    ab- 
stract  plant  forms   in   circles,    193; 
animal   motif,    156,    163;     areas   in 
black  and  white,  50;  fish  and  water 
symbols,   213;    from  study  of  past, 
237;   insect  motif,  93,  116;  peacock, 
249;    ship,    sail,     and    wave,     228; 
straight  line,  9,  30. 
Processes  and  tools,  100. 
Proportions  and  dimensions,  122. 
Proportions,    refinement   of,    121,   162, 
185;  theory  of,  124,  130. 

Rectangles,  12. 

Refinement  of  proportions,  121, 162, 184. 

Repetition,  36,  97. 

Representation  and  design,  3,  86,  215. 

Rhythm,   measure,   37,   192;    through 

interrelation    of    details,    96,    119, 

120,  179,    183,   189,    191,  202,   213; 

through  regular  repetition  of  shapes, 

35 ;  tone,  38. 
Ross,  Denman,  quoted,  231,  259. 
Ruskin,  drawing  and  design,  3;  quoted, 

35,  147. 

Saint  Andrea  of  Pistoja,  148. 

Space  and  mass,  10,  30,  32,  50,  94,  130, 

182,  201. 
Spoons,   Egyptian,    29;    of  primitive 


INDEX 


271 


workmanship,  28;  of  various  periods, 

30. 
Study,  lines  of,  231,  262;  necessity  for, 

I,  16. 
Style,  2,  60,  71,  182,  210. 
Surface  repeats,    116,    178,    187,    200, 

218. 
Symbols  from  nature,  137,  170,  185, 

189,  200,  213. 
S3anmetry,  42,  97,  158,    178,  194,  196, 

200. 

Teacher  and  pupil,  2. 

Tone,  139,  216;  balance,  159,  196, 
207,  214;  gained  through  line  com- 
binations, 13;  harmony,  48;  render- 
ing, 139;   rhythm,  38;   scale,  14. 


Tools  and  processes,  17,  100. 

Units,  32,  41,  97,  119,  178,  200,  212. 
Unity,  35,  216;     and    imiformity,    47, 

122. 
Utilitarian  basis,  4,  16,  58,  77. 

Van  Brunt,  quoted,  121. 
Variety,  14,  52,  185,  216. 
Venice,  San  Marco,  67. 
Verona,  doors  of  Duomo,  58. 

Weaving,  53,  130,  167,  169,  182,  195, 

211,  223,  239,  243,  257. 
Whole  to  parts,  218,  244. 
Wood  carving,  19,  58,  70,  225,  255. 


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A  manual  of  lettering  for  the  use  of  students,  with  historical  and 
practical  descriptions. 

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Memorials  of  Edward  Burne-Jones 

By  G.   B.-J. 

In  two  volumes.    Illustrated  with  40  photogravures,  besides  draw- 
ings in  the  text.      Cloth.     8vo.     $6.00  net.     {Postage  30  cents.) 

A  charmingly  informal  and  intimate  account  of  the  life  and  the  pictures 
of  the  man  who  is  probably,  of  all  artists  of  the  day,  at  once  the  most  famous 
among  the  elect,  and  the  best-loved  among  the  people.  These  two  things 
are  rarely  true  of  the  same  artist.  This  authorized  biography  presents  many 
reproductions  of  his  most  admired  pictures,  some  of  them  never  before  given 
to  the  public  in  this  way. 

Pre-Raphaelitism  and  the 
Pre-Raphaelite  Brotherhood 

By  WILLIAM  HOLMAN  HUNT,  O.M.,  D.C.L. 

Two  volumes.     With  40  photogravure  plates,  and  other  illustrations. 
Artistically  bound  in  cloth  with  decorated  cover.  $10.00  net 

"  Mr.  Hunt  has  written  such  a  contribution  to  the  history  of  man's  search 
after  beauty  as  man  will  number  amongst  the  choicest  assistants  to  his  knowl- 
edge. It  is  a  book  which  will  be  read,  we  believe,  as  long  as  the  word 
Pre-Raphaelite  Brotherhood  retains  any  vivid  meaning  in  the  history  of 
art."  —  St.  Jameses  Gazette. 

Greek  Terra-Cotta  Statuettes 

By  C.  a.   HUTTON 

Colored  illustrations     Cloth,  $2.50    Paper,  $1.50 

This  work  contains  a  full  description  of  the  Terra-Cotta  Statuettes  in 
Greece,  and  is  beautifully  illustrated  with  many  rare  colored  illustrations. 

Considerations  on  Painting 

By  J.   LA  FARGE  cloth   $ijs 

French  Prints  of  the  Eighteenth  Century 

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Reminiscences  of  Watts 

By  Mrs.   R.   BARRINGTON  CbtJk     $sjoo 


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